They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. ” “I’m sorry. " Spurlock's glance shot up, flaming again. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. He drove her to the Beck house, pulling up behind Cathy's red Nissan. He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover.
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