CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. " "Unworthy, indeed!" sneered Mrs. Walpole's order to that effect—but not before. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. She would not forgive me.
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