There were lines in her face that age had not put there. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd. If my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely. ‘To the contrary, I will have you to know something. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. The problem had returned, made gigantic by the possibility of Ruth's love. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him.
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