" "My negligence, Mr. 8. The grim mockery of it!—those South Sea loafers, taking advantage of Enschede's Christianity and imposing upon him, accepting his money and medicines and laughing behind his back! No doubt they made the name a byword and a subject for ribald jest in the waterfront bars. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir. . . The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture. Very soon she would be able to forget it. "Perhaps that would have been best. She turned a resolute face southward. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. I suspect he has been at work upon those he has on. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin.
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