" She made the companion without touching stay or rail, which necessitated a fine sense of balance, for there was a growing vigour to the wind and a corresponding lift to the roll of the sea. Certain of my prey, I can afford to wait for it. ‘You do not understand, Gérard. Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand. ‘I am not French in the least, bête.
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