We can be friends again. Hill was seated. There came to Spurlock the recurrence of the grim resolution of what he had set out to do: that comradeship was all he might ever give this exquisite creature; for she was exquisite, and in a way she dominated this picture of sea and sky and sail. Everything was going to hell. “Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette.
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