" "Queer birds. ’ Before the major could verify this, the lady reappeared. He continued thoughtfully. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. And now she was witnessing or observing the complicated machinery of civilization through which they had come, at length to land on the beach of her island.
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