He reached for her chin and lifted it up. He was so horny that he could probably make love to a tree. He thanked God for this talent of his. "Do you mean to tell me he's come and gone in an hour? What the devil kind of a father is he?" Spurlock shook his head. “Oh, theories! Being in love is a fact. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. “I want a vote for myself,” she said. “You, too,” he said abruptly. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. She looked up quickly. "I should like to see whether Blueskin is a little more composed.
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