"Mr. Tears began to stream from her cheeks. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. 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. “I do not know you,” she said coldly. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated.
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