Grudgingly he admired her. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. \" \"I'm sorry I didn't call. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. Laying these carefully aside, he restored the drawer to its place. The tears flowed faster. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house. Here he was hotly pursued. Diving towards it, he tried to press against the rivulet that was seeping from it, hampered mightily by Melusine’s fingers, which were grasping at his other hand.
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