"It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. ’ He grimaced. While Lady Bicknacre had never trusted Valade. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my world as I found it. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. Her back arched slightly in response. Here was one of those Americans who would make him breathless before sundown.
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