Diable. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. "I think the natives saw you coming out of the lagoon, one dawn. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. " As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes. Probably he will come around to-morrow and begin all over again.
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