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. ‘Ask him. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. Langley, I appeal to you.
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