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spray, at which she crept to the side of her favorite with a blank and woebegone countinance.

The sky appeared low and lowering.  As we rose out of the trough of the sea we could discern the meeting of the land and water by the white line of breakers.  "Keep off the coast," said Arnheim as we began to fear that the tide might carry us among them.  The night seemed almost upon us, but in the twilight I could see the face of Morton, anxious and darkened, and utterly unlike himself as he wrapped Mable in his overcoat and had her sit still and lok out for the boom.  In a few moments she asked a question which I thought he had been painfully antisipating, "When will we get home?"

To be continued