She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. CHAPTER XV. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. I can’t imagine what possessed you, Veronica. The next moment, a heavy plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster.
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