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Her mother followed with stately leisure, regardless of a wind-flung dash of sleet on her sealskins. Having been relieved of their furs, the callers were shown to the drawing-room. As the footman glided away to inform his mistress of their arrival, Dolores danced across to the door of the rear drawing- room and called in a clear, full-throated, contralto voice: "Ho, Vievie! Vievie! You in here?
The prows began to back and separate, five feet, ten feet, a dozen feet perhaps; then straight into that tiny streak of open water, like a stone from the hand of the slinger, like an arrow from a bow, rushed the wind-flung Margaret. What happened? Go ask it of the fishers of San Lucar and the pirates of Bonanza, where the tale has been told for generations.
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