The mighty concourse became for a moment still. Evidently he was gazing at the dull red roofs of the city: but was he registering what he saw? Never glance sideways at man, the old Kanaka woman had said. The resemblance was amazing! And some man—he was good-looking—was in the background. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. It was the first day you kissed me, under the willows, coming into Veraz. He glanced up.
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