All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. 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. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. And that would spoil it. The child was now within reach; and, in another moment, he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground. " "But I never told you how the natives fished. ‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully.
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