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org. Rubbishy novels and pernicious rascals. It was from Brendon. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. His figure was tall and commanding, and the expression of his countenance (though somewhat disturbed by his recent exertion) was resolute and stern.
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