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" "Quite natural! Never forgive an injury!—I never do!—ha! ha!" "Really, Mr. William Kneebone was a woollen-draper of "credit and renown," whose place of business was held at the sign of the Angel (for, in those days, every shop had its sign), opposite Saint Clement's church in the Strand. To be free of outward distraction, he shut his eyes and concentrated upon the scraps she had given him; and shortly, with his eyes still closed, he began to describe Ruth's island: the mountain at one end, with the ever-recurring scarves of mist drifting across the lava-scarred face; the jungle at the foot of it; the dazzling border of white sand; the sprawling store of the trader and the rotting wharf, sundrily patched with drift-wood; the native huts on the sandy floor of the palm groves; the scattered sandalwood and ebony; the screaming parakeets in the plantains; the fishing proas; the mission with its white washed walls and barren frontage; the lagoon, fringed with coco palms, now ruffled emerald, now placid sapphire. They want some fun, and there isn't any. ‘Well, I thought as how someone in the house in Paddington might see me hanging about outside like. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. The true creative mind is always returning to battle; defeats are only temporary setbacks.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 00:03:15