"That's all right. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. I care not. "She has fallen into the villain's hands. The fresh air, which blew in his face, greatly revived him. “He just wants to get laid, you know. My boys buy them with beads or bolts of calico of mine. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. John eased off.
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