Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. All these experiences have taught me a great deal about life and realities. But the stone was slippery; and the tide, which here began to feel the influence of the fall, was running with frightful velocity. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. I don't want her hurt. “Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely.
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