’ ‘Je m’en moque. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet. No, not one little bit. It's always hard work for a rich man's son to stand alone. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control.
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