How old are you?’ ‘I have nineteen years, and it is quite unimportant. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is. In the matter of his conscience he was primitive; and for an educated man to become primitive is to become something of a child. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. This is grace I am saying! Oh! my dear! all the joy and weeping of life are mixed in me now and all the gratitude. " "In what way, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, in astonishment. “I don’t think I shall.
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