" "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. The barometer says nothing, neither the sky nor the water; the skipper has the "feel" that out yonder there's a big blow moving. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. Gerald at once lowered his voice to that intimate level again, and leaned towards her. It was a hoax, it was the only thing possible, until she heard Cathy say, “Let me hold those for you. Will you go? You'll be paid handsomely for your trouble.
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