She chuckled. He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse.
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