The transverse spars before mentioned were as slippery as ice; and the hollows between them were filled ankle-deep with water. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. Sulphurous poisons assaulted her nostrils as she threw the stone to one side of its resting place.
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