‘And this is not all,’ went on the lady, evidently determined to disclose all her wrongs. To-night we leave for Marseilles. God had never answered any of her prayers. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. From thoughts of fame to thoughts of mere bread and butter! It seemed to Spurlock that he had tumbled off the edge of Somewhere into the abyss of Nowhere.
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