" "Mr. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. ” “The posters at least,” Anna answered quietly, “I have some claim to. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. “How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. He was painfully in earnest, too.
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