Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. \"Cathy says she'll let me stay out past midnight. I won't have a beachcomber on the island.
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