CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. He took a sip of punch and commenced his relation. "I'd forgotten. I have suffered all this. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. She stood among them, watching them and feeling curiously alien to them. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. " "Are you Mr.
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