“Oh, Lord!” she said, discovering what she was up to, and dropped lightly from the fence upon the turf and went on her way toward the crest. “You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. It’s all right. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Cased and ribbed with stone, and braced with horizontal beams of timber, the piles, which formed the foundation of these jetties, had resisted the strong encroachments of the current for centuries. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement.
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