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. At this juncture, a cry was raised by a servant from below, that the robbers were flying through the garden. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. “Don’t bunch too much as you come out,” she added.
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