"Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. It was after all a momentary affair. By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers. Everything was blurred. Wild. " "Won't you go?" cried Jack passionately. She parted the curtains to find him standing there.
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