" It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. "On that night,—in this room,—in your presence, Blueskin,— in yours Mr. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him.
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