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CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. . “I don’t see there’s any getting away from the fact that you and I love each other,” he said, slowly. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. “Everybody seems to have it now. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. The inside was empty except for an infant, which from a distance looked utterly normal. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. The doctor had not heard from his people. And it has been well for you that he imagines the child was drowned. Then there was also the horse. ’ ‘Don’t be stuffy, Hilary,’ admonished his betrothed.
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