” He declared that no book could be satisfactory that left a bad taste in the mouth, however much it seized and interested the reader at the time. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish. That Capes should love her seemed beyond the compass of her imagination. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. This heroine ruled an island which (in the '80s) was rich with shell—pearl-shell; and she fought pearl thievers and marauding beachcombers, fought them with weapons and with woman's guile. She remained on guard. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. I don’t mind telling you chaps that except on the stage I haven’t set eyes on her this side of the water.
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