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Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. His grip twisted her wrist. There is no further hope. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.
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