He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. “When are you going away?” He asked. “Allow me. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness. I am too weak to aid you.
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