She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. McClintock's heart went out to Spurlock; he would always be the boy's friend, even though he had dragged this girl on to the rocks with him. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money. . ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion.
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