She found a clean sweatshirt and soft pajama pants, glad to trade the wet for the dry. The door leaned inward. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. But the stone was slippery; and the tide, which here began to feel the influence of the fall, was running with frightful velocity.
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