"Ah!" exclaimed Lady Trafford, exerting all her strength. " "Come this way, Mr. 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. And I’m off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the Atlantic I’ll thank the Lord for it. ‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. “Absolutely platonically,” she said.
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