The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew's departure, nor to follow him.
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