CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. Annabel Pellissier was not like the others, he said. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. " "You daren't use it. “You poor little girl!” he cried. Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back.
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