. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. ‘Parbleu,’ she uttered indignantly. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. Either Sydney or Mr.
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