The point is, Spurlock was coming along: queerly, by his own imagination. The boat in which he rode was not overset. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. ” Missy grunted in neither Lucy’s nor Michelle’s direction. ’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. C.
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