Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. After dinner Ann Veronica went into the drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe and pensive petrography. The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in. “She has refused to listen to you?” “She has behaved in a most extraordinary manner,” he answered. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. She rested her head upon his shoulder. Profoundly.
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