Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. You know, I’ve done no work at all this afternoon. Montague Hill. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. I killed him, Nigel. “Nevertheless,” Hill said doggedly, “I am here to speak to you alone. I am determined to fight my own little battle with the world —there must be a place for me somewhere, and I mean to find it.
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