" CHAPTER XIII. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. 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. "What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm. Time enough to do so when she has her affairs settled—if she can settle them.
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