Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. I’m a Socialist, Miss Stanley. .
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