“Yes, aren’t they?” said Ann Veronica, after a thoughtful pause. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. "Be it as you please," replied Winifred. She pointed. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. . . She had but to choose. Ben watched these manoeuvres with great interest, and strained every sinew in his frame to keep ahead of the other boats.
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