" "Look here, my boy, that attitude is all damned nonsense. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. " "True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recollections of the day before crowded, "I know it isn't. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. " "I cannot repent,—I cannot pray," replied Jack, recovering his hardened demeanour. Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue.
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