It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. “I’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources. She forgot her vital hatred of the South Seas; she forgot that McClintock's would not differ a jot from the old island she had for ever left behind her; she forgot all the doctor's lessons and warnings. Light flooded the place. Stanley coughed and faced toward the house. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners.
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