CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. He was a wonderful little creature with a perfect tiny face, mottled pink cheeks, and eyes brighter than May. The stairs were outside but they had been covered with a thin plastic roof. Irreton. She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart.
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