We LIKED each other well enough. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. Still keeping ahead of his pursuers, he ran along the direct road, till the houses disappeared and he got into the open country. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. “It isn’t objections exactly. One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. I ought never to have thought of it.
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