Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. The island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava. Let us stay the night here. They did not speak until he had driven past town limits and were on the highway.
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