As the Wastrel rushed, Spurlock sidestepped, swept the ball into his hand, set himself and threw it. "How shall I get to you?" "My yacht is in the river. Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?— Nothing amiss, I trust?" "Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow.
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