“Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. Lucy kicked her side, then her wounded leg, dislodging her. " "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. I said, ‘It is no use your telling me about this walk and pretend I’ve been told about the ball, because you haven’t.
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