” “As long as you remain under my roof—” he began, and paused. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. "The plot's out!" cried Jack. “Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. 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. Can you afford to give this time? There are your own affairs to think of. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips.
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