He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. Moments are ages now. Hartford had a very respectable sound. 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. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him.
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