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The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. You do not know him. Wherever I saw him, I should pick him out as a man designed by nature to plan and accomplish the wonderful escapes he has effected. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. He said that his life was boring and stupid without her. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. Annabel! Annabel!” His voice became a shriek. 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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