Spurlock grew cold. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. " That was true, thought Spurlock. It’s a lake among precipices, and there is a little inn where we can stay, and sit and eat our dinner at a pleasant table that looks upon the lake. ‘And all to help me. Besides, she will do no such thing.
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