She glanced into his face. “What are you doing?” he asked. For five minutes he has been trying to think of something to say. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr.
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