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. “I see nothing of my sister,” she said. “Indeed, I must implore you to return. com/E21or The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ragged Edge, by Harold MacGrath This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. “Get you a cold one?” “No thanks. So while he talked to this girl of work and freedom, his slightly protuberant eyes were noting the gracious balance of her limbs and body across the gate, the fine lines of her chin and neck. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. He smiled inwardly. He saluted awkwardly.
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