” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. I'll eat them when we start. Your disobedience be upon your own head. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled.
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