CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. We meant to make it dinner and a theatre, but you were not home. But this I cannot do. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. Before the first month was gone, McClintock admitted that the boy was a find. "No, I don't.
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