His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. “I did not recognize him,” Anna answered. "By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago. The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. It felt too good. Did he track her? She was unaware if he did.
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