And now she was witnessing or observing the complicated machinery of civilization through which they had come, at length to land on the beach of her island. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. She bounced onto her bottom. ’ ‘Ah, but there’s the little matter of your presence here,’ said Gerald on a note of apology.
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