The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. “I hope nothing is wrong. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. “You have dyed your hair and darkened your eyebrows. When he left these premises, three years ago, I took them from him; or rather—to deal frankly with you,—he placed me in them rent-free, for, I'm not ashamed to confess it, I've had losses, and heavy ones; and, if it hadn't been for him, I don't know where I should have been.
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