"Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. A check arrives in Batavia every three months. It must be sent home this evening. “You love some one else?” he repeated. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. ‘So that’s true, is it?’ ‘Certainly it is true,’ Melusine said, opening her eyes wide. “I will not have this slavery. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears.
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