I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia. 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. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room.
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