CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. "Oh, you're here, are you?" said the ruffian, with an exulting laugh: "I've been looking for you everywhere. A mate? A brother-lover to tromp about the world with? “I cannot.
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