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"Does your father doubt it? Speak! tell me!" Winifred made no answer. On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. K-kimble, sir,’ stammered the lad. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. “What do you think of that?” he asked. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. The doctor frowned. " "You're not come here to insult me, Mr. .
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