CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. "Jack," said Mrs. "That's a fine tale," said Spurlock. " "Both are dead," observed the knight, gloomily. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty.
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