" It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. “When one wants a thing more than anything else in the world,” she said with outrageous frankness, “one naturally wishes one had it. ” She stopped buttoning her glove, and looked at him. It was grated and crested with spikes, like that he had just burst open, and thinking it a needless waste of time to force it, he broke off one of the spikes, which he carried with him for further purposes, and then climbed over it. " Spurlock closed his eyes.
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