There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue.
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