CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. The disgrace of the leaders of the late Tory administration had strengthened, rather than injured, their cause. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently.
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