He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. " "Do you suppose he knew?" "He? Oh, you mean Mr. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. But a doll that rolled its eyes and had flaxen hair! Except for the manual labour—there had been natives to fetch and carry—she and Cosette were sisters in loneliness. She moaned as he buried himself completely to the hilt.
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