\" She said. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. And you’d better have her fetch in some food for the missie, an’ all. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. This lapse was possibly due to her apparent determination to make full protest of Hilary’s conduct. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. Gerald raised his cockaded hat, and smiled. My goodness gracious. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. ” “Did I?” she said. That’s the wonder of it.
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