” Courtlaw seemed about to say something. The island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava. But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair. I should say that having a doubt was enough to condemn it. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice.
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