” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. Sometimes at sea a skipper will order his men to trim, batten down the hatches, and clear the deck of all litter. "I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted. ’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed.
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