" There was a roaring in her ears like that of angry waters. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. “Girls. "And so you've given up all hope of escaping, eh, Jack?" remarked Hogarth. And they pay her.
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