" "Oh, no!" Ruth protested. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. “You shall go,” he declared. "He sails to-morrow morning in the very vessel by which I start," replied Jack. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate.
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