CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. ’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. “My mom is making duck.
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