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. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. I didn't expect you home before that hour, Sir. Wood's boat bearing up towards him. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation.
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