Then he paused. By a sort of instinct. He looked half at her and half at the sky. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. “How dare you? You are trying to kidnap my babies!” Clotilde demanded. We were only—les autres. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand.
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