His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. I learned of your betrothal, gleaned all the information I could simply by eavesdropping. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course.
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