Chapter 34 No.34

Meanwhile she wrote the last chapters of her book, sitting on the beach among drying nets and boats, in some fishing cove up the coast. The Newlyn shore she did not like, because the artist-spoilt children crowded round her, interrupting.

"Lady, lady! Will you paint us?"

"No. I don't paint."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Writing. Go away.

            
            

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