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. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. ‘I do not mind to pray, no. ” She shook her head.
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