Go to her. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. 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. The thought made her exquisitely happy. The island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke.
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