“What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. Ruth could not be told now. 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. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. ” “Are you afraid?” “Only for you! Most of my income will vanish.
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