“You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley. Not a scar but has its history. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. He smiled tenderly. Gazing into each other's eyes with new-found rapture, neither observed the sudden appearance in the doorway of an elderly woman in travel-stained linen. Jack fell on his knees beside her.
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