Capes agreed with the utmost cordiality. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. ‘I left a message at home that he should do so as soon as he returned from Kent. 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. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. He had not thought to find a lady so ready of humour and willing to give him a hearing.
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