The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. Lost me place, that’s all. Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. She had found that proof. You denied it at the time—but unfortunately I have proof. It makes me desire life beyond measure. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it.
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