The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. Ah!" he exclaimed, as his eye fell upon a small knob in the wall, "there's the spring!" He touched it, and the door flew open. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance.
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