I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. The chance had gone. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. I shall still believe in you. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. "Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack.
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