" Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. Byby. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. " "There is a great art in it, if you did," quoth he. Or at least he did the day before yesterday. And now she was witnessing or observing the complicated machinery of civilization through which they had come, at length to land on the beach of her island. “What are you doing?” He cried. I am loved. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love.
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