During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. "You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely,—nay, more, you shall have an hour's grace. Wood's anxiety grew so insupportable, that he seized his hat with the intention of sallying forth in search of them, though he did not know whither to bend his steps, when his departure was arrested by a gentle knock at the door. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now.
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