“Please go and see that—nothing happens,” she pleaded. Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. An hour later the doctor arrived; and after a thorough examination, he looked doubtful. Go for it. . Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you.
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