\"I’ve never been to any of Lincoln’s dances. ” Michelle sat in a yogi’s posture on the cold plywood, her eyes closed as if meditating. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. There came to Spurlock the recurrence of the grim resolution of what he had set out to do: that comradeship was all he might ever give this exquisite creature; for she was exquisite, and in a way she dominated this picture of sea and sky and sail.
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