Anna stood looking down upon her sister with grave perturbed face. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. ‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good.
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