"No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. His efforts at self-destruction were, however, prevented.
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