The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. I hope you won’t think less of me, you’ve treated me so well. \"Did you girls finish your homework?\" Cathy's head appeared in the open door. Yet there was nothing for her to do.
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