Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. " "Come along, then. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. It was necessary to think, and think quickly. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. The Night-Cellar. It wasn't worth while to invest imaginatively a man with evil projects simply because he was physically ugly. She missed them already.
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