Wood. “All right so far,” she said to herself. “I regret that you should ever have proposed it,” he went on. There came to Spurlock the recurrence of the grim resolution of what he had set out to do: that comradeship was all he might ever give this exquisite creature; for she was exquisite, and in a way she dominated this picture of sea and sky and sail. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. The delight of the turnkeys was beyond all bounds; but poor Mrs. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. I cannot answer that question.
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