’ She bit her lip, frowning. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. ” Lucy said. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. Suddenly remembering Kimble, her heart thudded with excitement. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both.
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