"When a man reaches the lowest scale through drink, we call him a beachcomber. Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. " "Nothing in the pockets. Following this direction, he opened a gate, and struck into one of the most beautiful green lanes imaginable; which, after various windings, conducted him into a more frequented road, and eventually brought him to the place he sought. When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes.
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