“Well, I don’t feel like standing it. " 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 kept that, but the rest. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. Still —there you are!” He paused. "It was given me by poor dear Mrs.
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