There came to Spurlock the recurrence of the grim resolution of what he had set out to do: that comradeship was all he might ever give this exquisite creature; for she was exquisite, and in a way she dominated this picture of sea and sky and sail. Why should I?” “At last,” he murmured, “at last I have found you. uh. "I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. The first peg was torture. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts.
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