" The worthy carpenter was now far more angry with himself than he had previously been with Mrs. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. “Should I leave? Sounds like she is running out of food. Her lips parted, but no words came. The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said.
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