CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. They began to wrestle fiercely. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. This woman, contrary to his custom, he answered. The lady's name's engraved inside, but so small I can scarcely read it. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. “Allow me,” the doctor said, “to give you a word of advice, Miss Pellissier.
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