He felt the first sting of the whip. “Holy shit!” Giggling and snickering was amplified by asbestos tiles and reverberated by metal desks. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. There were swift actions, too: a Kanaka crawled out upon the bowsprit to make taut a slack stay, while two others with pulley-blocks swarmed aloft. And I, I am happy to say, am in the delightful position of being in the know. “Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister.
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