" "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. I don't know how to explain it," said Spurlock, "but music hits women queerly. "But what, may I ask, arouses the thought?" The doctor was in high good humour. "There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden porch of which was covered with roses and creepers, with a little trim garden in front of it. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. Spurling, drily.
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