But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. Stanley, “just a moment. My servant. "There he is!" cried Winifred, starting up, joyfully, and proving by the exclamation that her thoughts were dwelling upon one subject only. She was struck by a change in his appearance. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen.
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