She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. But this plan (probably from its danger) was instantly abandoned; not, however, before her momentary hesitation had been taken advantage of by her pursuers, who, redoubling their efforts at this juncture, materially lessened the distance between them. You cannot care for her. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. I haven’t, anyhow.
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