Observing Spurlock's spellbound attitude, he clapped the boy on the shoulder. It seemed to encapsulate the mosquito like a little piece of moonlight, it was talismanic to her. "Perhaps," replied Wood, doubtfully. "There he is!" "I fear not," said her father, with a doubtful shake of the head. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about.
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