"Close the door!" commanded Trenchard, impatiently. “I want to know who you are. Giles's round-house on my own responsibility. Pearls in the dawn light, flashing and burning! "You don't like your island?" "I hate it!… But, there!"—weariness edging in. If only this man had been her father! The world would have meant nothing; the island would have been wide enough.
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