Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. She felt she was bound in honor to tell the whole affair to Manning sooner or later. But he reckoned without his host. “What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. Evidently he was gazing at the dull red roofs of the city: but was he registering what he saw? Never glance sideways at man, the old Kanaka woman had said. From her stomacher, to which it was attached by a multitude of glittering steel chains, depended an immense turnip-shaped watch, in a pinchbeck case. ‘But of course.
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