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Updated: June 5, 2025
It was Janet, little more than sketched, to be sure, but a startling likeness; and the wreath of pimpernel flowers, on the glorious sun-touched hair, had evidently been the artist's last work. The throne-like space, with the cushions and low divan upon which the girl posed, was in full view, with Thornly's jacket and pipe lying carelessly upon it.
If Thornly were away from the shanty, Janet knew the hiding place for the key; she could enter at will and the secrets of the treasure house were not hidden from her. "Lock the door after you, whether you are in or out," was Thornly's command. "No one must know, until the very last!" And the girl would have cheerfully defended the place with her life. Over sandy hillocks she went gleefully.
Thornly's demeanour, who never forgot that she had experienced her protection in the hour of need, and by the irresistible good-nature of Cicely, a smiling, rosy, sunny-looking creature, whose only vocation in this world seemed to be the trying to make everybody as happy as herself. Mrs. Nothing was too large for Cicely's good-will, nothing too small.
A stupor was creeping over her, a stupor she had been trained to fear. She struggled to her feet, but the mad thought of summer would cling to her benumbed fancy. It fascinated and lured her dangerously. She saw the Hills rise, many colored, in the blackness. She saw Thornly's little hut with its door set open to the cool, refreshing breeze. It was a breeze then, this fierce, cruel wind.
Thornly," Billy clung to his purpose, "this girl, properly speakin', don't b'long t' me. She drifted in t' port early, an' from, as ye may say, a wreck; I kept her, an' loved her, God knows, as if she war my own. But she ain't!" This confession brought the beads of perspiration to Billy's brow, but Thornly's unmoved expression calmed him. "My Cap'n Daddy!"
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