"There's another instance of your wilfulness and want of taste. " "Two can play at that game, my blood," replied Sheppard, rising, and putting himself into a posture of defence. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming.
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