CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. “Here,” he said, “is this Blau See, and here we rest until to-morrow. ” “And leave you here alone?” he asked, in a hoarse whisper. Then she saw him.
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