Wood's boat, impelled alike by oar and tide, shot past the mark at which it aimed; and before it could be again brought about, the struggle had terminated. I'm in a funk," Spurlock confessed. "And the will?" he said, with forced calmness. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. Behind every one of these myriad fronts she passed there must be a career or careers. Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back. Without Jack, it was certain that she faced danger if she went outside Golden Square. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles.
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