. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. ’ Gerald sighed. ' So I go to Patagonia. And there," he added, placing in his hands a heavy bag of money, and a pocketbook, "is a sum little short of fifteen thousand pounds. It was the beginning of June. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast.
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