A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. I can't bear it. "Your name is Spurlock?" "It is. On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. It was a precious thing, a beautiful cabochon—do you know what that is?” “What’s a cabochon?” “It’s a precious jewel that doesn’t have facets yet. That's worth something to me; for I don't mind paying for revenge. The guards had great difficulty in preserving a clear passage without resorting to severe measures, for the tide, which poured upon them behind, around, in front, and at all sides, was almost irresistible.
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