“I may not see the Widgetts for some little time, father,” she said. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. "So that was it? And what the devil are you doing here, moping alone on the beach? Why aren't you with her in this hour of bitterness?" "What can I do?" "You can go to her and take her in your arms. ‘All right, Trodger. " CHAPTER VI. He'll mend, I hope.
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