“This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. ‘What a fate he finds for me. F. See what you have made of me. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him.
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