The Jacobite. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging. He unhooked it from the front clasp. Roof open —like a Noah’s Ark. If it hadn’t been for Professor Russell standing up for him, they say he would have had to leave. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. Accordingly, having given Wood such directions as he thought necessary for his guidance, and received a handsome gratuity in return for his services, he departed.
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