She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. " "One word before I go," urged Blueskin. 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.
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