And Anna was conscious of a few moments of exquisite emotion. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. The barometer says nothing, neither the sky nor the water; the skipper has the "feel" that out yonder there's a big blow moving. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. I loved her and made love to her, and I don’t think she quite loved me back in the same way. " "Well, imagination beats me!" "It's something Ruth saw.
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