In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. " "We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps.
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