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"So you're writing under a nom de plume, eh?" said McClintock, holding out the letter. . CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. ‘Both of them so wise after the event. ’ Gosse’s eyes went to the portrait, and evidently took in the uncanny resemblance, looking from it to Melusine and back again. Wood. ” Her heart had warmed toward him.
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