Gentlemen,—Mr. “What have I done, Miss Pellissier?” he pleaded. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet. Stanley’s pace slackened. Hill, Meysey Hill. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture.
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