She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. " "But why not?" The doctor dallied with his teaspoon. \"Carry your books for you?\" He asked. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. gutenberg. 4 \"No thanks. "You have both," replied Wood, fervently. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. \" 49 She greeted him as he scanned her from head to toe, absorbing the lines of her figure as he was doing systematically with every other female in the parking lot.
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