I'm sure she'll let me go, though. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. Her steps slowed. For a moment she remained silent. "Go and take your plunge while I attend to breakfast. I am sure that he can be got rid of.
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