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JOAN OF THE ISLAND
"Well?" he said in a voice that he hardly recognized.
Joan glanced up at him with a secret smile, and then lowered her eyes as a faint flush mounted to her smooth cheeks.
"I, too, was counting my chickens," she replied lightly and yet shyly. And then: "Come," she continued, rising. "The Kestrel is nearly at her moorings, and Chester will be grumbling if his tea isn't ready in another five minutes."
