There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God.
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