“You’ll do no such thing, Sheila. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. Then he lifted the black cloak-like garment from the floor.
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