“You are the most perfect, the most glorious of created things—tender, frank intellectual, brave, beautiful. His arm closed in around her middle and she was caught. “How old are you?\" He looked at her engagingly. The service began. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. ‘You are there. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know.
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