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“I’m sorry. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. Close upon this came another thought. But d—n him! let's talk o' something more agreeable. There stepped forth a tall brown man. Now, will you stand aside?" "I won't," answered Jack, obstinately. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. Fear nothing.
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