If I did not love you en désespoir, I would assuredly blow off your head. After a certain amount of manœuvring, however, he was induced to crawl around, and in a few minutes came to stop again before a tall brightly-painted house, which seemed like an oasis of colour and assertive prosperity in a long dingy row. ‘Give me that!’ He took his finger away from her neck and made a grab at the handkerchief. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart.
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