"My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. This circumstance produced no further alteration in his demeanour except that he endeavoured to abstract himself from the surrounding scene, and bend his attention to the prayers which the ordinary was reciting. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. She felt him as something solid and strong and trustworthy beyond measure. The watch was again consulted.
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