’ ‘Compel me? You do not know me, monsieur. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes.
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