Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. He knew me, Nigel. The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. Still no sound. Officers were these. A sea voyage under sail will be the making of him.
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