CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. He pressed the long shapely hand warmly in his. . Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out. Wild is a great man," said the hangman, replenishing his pipe, "and we owe him much, and ought to support him. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. 8.
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