She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. He had sold half a dozen short tales to thirdrate magazines; but this letter had been issued from a distinguished editorial room, of international reputation. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. ’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. ‘It is London’s loss, ma’am. Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts.
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