Such was the effect produced upon the passengers by his good looks and manly deportment, that few—especially of the gentler and more susceptible sex—failed to turn round and bestow a second glance upon the handsome stranger. “What did you say?” “Well, I considered myself justified in denying it,” Anna answered drily. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. ‘Typical. He was not there. But I don't understand her; she's over my head. A small voice greeted her, hissing.
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