But Sheppard answered for him. ’ With an unexpected flush of pleasure, he recalled the girl’s antics. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. There is a place—This isn’t the place. As she raised it, its lower portion fell apart into two baggy crimson masses.
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