"My friend here," said McClintock, "tells me you are looking for a job. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. He seemed like a very intelligent doctor and not at all like a snooty archbishop. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. We must wash out those stains up stairs, and burn the cloth. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. He sprung out of the driver’s side and ran to her door. Manning loomed up ever and again into her world, full of a futile solicitude, and almost always declaring she was splendid, splendid, and wishing he could talk things out with her. "What is it you want of me?" "All you know about this young fellow Spurlock.
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