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’ ‘Don’t be stuffy, Hilary,’ admonished his betrothed. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. Anna held out her hand, and he paused. She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence.
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