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CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. “Exceptionally so. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. " "Couldn't … couldn't I go with you this afternoon?" "Too hot. Having secured this,—for he was almost famished,—he said that he had lost a hammer and wished to purchase one. He laughed suddenly, and released her. But he did not follow on with the thought.

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