” She commented, only to herself. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715.
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