Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. “I will tell you when to stop. "Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began. I cannot protect you. 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. The heroism of two beach combers had saved all on board and their own manhood as well. ’ ‘So that was it. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. And she felt that if she went home it was imperative to pay. ‘How is this? Proo-den-ss. I had that coming.
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