Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride. Suddenly Anna felt her hand seized and imprisoned in Courtlaw’s burning fingers. "I'm prudence personified.
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