So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. A dozen shynesses and intellectual barriers were being outflanked or broken down in her mind. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. Righting, however, instantly afterwards, she scudded with the greatest rapidity over the boiling waves, to whose mercy she was now entirely abandoned. Ireton, was appointed to the office, stood with a hammer in one hand, and a punch in the other, near the great stone block, ready to fulfil his duty. CHAPTER I.
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