. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. The point is, Spurlock was coming along: queerly, by his own imagination. Wild. At sunset the swarming abruptly ceased; even the sampans appeared to draw closer together, with the quiet of water-fowl. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. But Darrell averted his head.
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