The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. 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. She must learn wisdom—as God pleases. The Night-Cellar. “You should quit. ” “We’ll have, thank God! ten myriad days to tell each other things.
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