What have you got to say?" "Too much," replied Kneebone, shaking his head; "sadly too much. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. "I wonder," said Ruth. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard.
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