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. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. It was a purse. " "No more of this," rejoined Thames, "or we shall quarrel.
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