But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. But they were too late. "Farewell for ever," said Jack, extending his hand to Mrs. Let me see now. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images.
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