" "Hold your tongue!" cried Mrs. "I must go. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. He went over her features one by one in his mind. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried.
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