"So you're writing under a nom de plume, eh?" said McClintock, holding out the letter. CHAPTER XXXII. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. Goopes, who had at first been a little reserved, resorted presently to the Socratic method to restrain the young man with the orange tie, and bent his forehead over him, and brought out at last very clearly from him that the body was only illusion and everything nothing but just spirit and molecules of thought.
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