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So they reached the point by Lady Macquarie's Chair, paused for a moment at the turn, hesitated, then together, as of one accord, went down the grassy slope by the landing stairs and out upon the rough wave-eaten fringe of rock to the water's edge. They were alone together, alone in Paradise. There were none others in the whole world.
At nine o'clock that night, taking her course from a lighthouse, and groaning and cracking as she bucked into a nasty sea, the Garbosa shot into the Big Columbreta, an extinct volcanic crater, caved in, on one side, leaving a half-circle of steep, wave-eaten cliffs, within which the water is calm, unless the storm happens to be coming from the East.
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