‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. “Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. —I'll give him the edication of a prig,—teach him the use of his forks betimes,—and make him, in the end, as clever a cracksman as his father. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. Spurlock bent his head to his knees. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them.
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