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He thought of his severe attitude towards the girl who was rightly and with contempt refusing his measured help. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. She stood up before him, smiling faintly. " He shook his head. It isn’t what I have been but what I am. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. If he got her outside, surely the soldiers would see her and intervene. "Your mother is dead," interposed Wild, scowling. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards. He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear.
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