“All right, Dunster,” he said. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he said, “because we want you to do us a favour. Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs.
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