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Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. “Oh, you know,” she said. We have that gift. “A sex of blacklegging clients. Spurling, half aside. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. It is nothing at all for you to worry about. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel. Immediately behind this individual, came a pale, poverty-stricken woman, whose forlorn aspect contrasted strongly with his plump and comfortable physiognomy. The boat in which he rode was not overset. “I heard they came from somewhere outrageous. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. 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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