' Why," said Ruth, "you did not read that to us. “She can’t. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. Not like my father. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. I don’t care what divides us. Here we go, thought Gerald.
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