The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. ’ ‘The nuns?’ she said, gazing at him innocently. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. ‘Very wise,’ he commented, slightly relaxing his arm. You square the G. . Then he sat down again in a chair and said that people who wrote novels ought to be strung up. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. ***** Coconuts grew perpetually.
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