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Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. “If only Sir John were not Sir John I would ask you to come and have some supper. I wish she wouldn’t look like that at us over her glasses. When she told him that the natives called her The Dawn Pearl, his delight was unbounded. But, egad! I believe he will. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable. " The spinster did not ask if the mother lived; the question was inconsequent. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. But anything is better than this. Splendidly.
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