As Gosse pushed her around it, she felt his hold about her of necessity loosen slightly. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in.
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