The moisture from the sea was constant, and she spent countless hours staring at the sea from the west tower, the rise and fall of waves. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side. “Damned Rascal!” he said. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire.
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