He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. It was enough. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. Borne along by the current, Darrell was instantly at the boat's side. Her efforts were vain. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. Anna went out.
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