“You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean. "Look here," cried Jonathan, stooping down and taking hold of a ring in the floor, with which by a great effort he raised up a flag. McClintock's was a plantation of ten thousand palms, yielding him annually about half a million nuts. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest.
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