To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. A shudder rippled across his shoulders. ” Ennison glanced at the other people in the box and smiled. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other.
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