"O Massa Ireton! Massa Wild!" ejaculated Caliban, "Shack Sheppart gone!" "Gone? you black devil!—Gone?" cried Ireton. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. " "No," said Ruth, pulling back. In an instant, she turned on him. Folks don’t like ’em. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage. And there are other guides. "I'm sure little Jack has but one friend beside myself, in the world, and that's more than I would have ventured to say for him yesterday. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night.
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