" "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. Gianfrancesco stumbled belatedly onto the beach, his feet padding wet sand. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. "Good work.
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