Thames did not try to cheer her. There were lines in her face that age had not put there. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. " Sir Rowland looked at her for a moment, as if he meditated some terrible reply.
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