She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his life; there would be none at all if he were moved. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. “Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said. " Meanwhile, the party at the table continued drinking and chatting as merrily as before. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch.
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