You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Her arms and feet were uncovered, and of almost skeleton thinness. His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter. Perhaps in two or three weeks. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness.
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