CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. “It was my sister Anna. This lifeless appearance was heightened by the extreme sharpness of her features—especially the nose and chin,—and by the emaciation of her limbs, which was painfully distinct through her drapery. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. Deny me, if you please.
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