He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. A paralyzing horror was upon her. He shrieked with agony, and clung with desperate tenacity to the roughened stones. " "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech.
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