"Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child. ‘Even the nuns they say I am like a devil. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance.
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