"I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. What a God-forsaken fool he was! And dimly, out there somewhere in the South Seas—the beach! Already he sensed the fascination of the inevitable; and with this fascination came the idea of haste, to get there quickly and have done. “All day.
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