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Sir John was not used to such glances, and he liked them. Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. How much he would be able to do for her. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood.

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