She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face.
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