In this hour its colossal selfishness never occurred to him. " "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames. She seemed honestly glad to see him. " "Mr. He was asleep. F. The Rev. She knew that the next time he caught her she would not be able to free herself. That turned her mind to the more generalized aspects of her perplexities again. 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. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. It was on the eve of that memorable rebellion which broke forth, two months later, in Scotland. . .
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