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"Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. ā€ Annabel shrugged her shoulders. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. "So that was it? And what the devil are you doing here, moping alone on the beach? Why aren't you with her in this hour of bitterness?" "What can I do?" "You can go to her and take her in your arms. It is to set me right with Winifred. Iā€™m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all. ā€ He said admiringly. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him.

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