” “We’ll have, thank God! ten myriad days to tell each other things. Sir Rowland, who had continued absorbed in thought, with his eyes fixed upon the sloop, as she made her way slowly down the river, disembarked more leisurely. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. This is altogether insupportable.
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