CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. That old chap has a remarkable range in reading. As it happens sometimes, the idea stepped down from the dream into the reality; and he saw it more clearly now than he had seen it in the dream. It was a pity people had to eat food. Very well. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. He filled the rôle of comrade which Spurlock dared not enact, at least not utterly as he would have liked.
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