For an instant, Melusine watched him go. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. "A sail?" said McClintock. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. “I believe it is.
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