’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. “I can get very angry. Borne along by the current, Darrell was instantly at the boat's side. Pearls in the dawn light, flashing and burning! "You don't like your island?" "I hate it!… But, there!"—weariness edging in. ’ So that was it. She was a little paler than when she had come to London, a little paler and a little thinner.
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