There came to Spurlock the recurrence of the grim resolution of what he had set out to do: that comradeship was all he might ever give this exquisite creature; for she was exquisite, and in a way she dominated this picture of sea and sky and sail. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. She wanted to scream, but there was no one to scream for. ‘You will release me at once, imbecile.
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