Kneebone in a conciliatory tone. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. There were moments when Ann Veronica rather more than suspected the chief speakers to be, as school-boys say, showing off at her. He asked her whether she understood what she was saying, and went on to say still more precisely that she should never touch a penny of his money until she came home again—not one penny.
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