‘But do you not see that he will come again? I think it is better if you, both of you, go and leave me here to find—’ She broke off, looking away. She had to wait some minutes in an outer office, wherein three young men of spirited costume and appearance regarded her with ill-concealed curiosity and admiration. She forgot her vital hatred of the South Seas; she forgot that McClintock's would not differ a jot from the old island she had for ever left behind her; she forgot all the doctor's lessons and warnings. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. “Go on!” she commanded. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark.
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