" Spurlock closed his eyes. And they’ll shut the gates presently. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. CHAPTER VII. It might be three yards in width, and a few more in length; but it was covered with ooze and slime, and the waves continually broke over it. I don't want her hurt. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo.
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