“What do you mean?” she asked. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. He did not come out of his chloroform coma and sailed weakly to his death. Thanksgiving Day morning, Shari woke Lucy a half an hour before the sounding of the alarm. She recognized the face but could not quite place it. I—listen.
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