As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats. ” He handed her the phone reluctantly, barely masking his mild disgust. " "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech. " "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. I’d only have to do something about it, and that I can’t.
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