‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. . The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. Then Capes flittered to the hearthrug and poked the fire, stood up, and turned about. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. “I think this ends the business,” he said, turning to his sister.
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