He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. His frowning gaze came back to her. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. “You’re still,” he said, “in the educational years. Some few of the individuals seated at the other tables seemed to take an interest in the proceedings of Blueskin and his party, just as a bystander watches any other game; but, generally speaking, the company were too much occupied with their own concerns to pay attention to anything else.
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