Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. " "Quite the contrary," rejoined the woollen-draper, laughing good-humouredly. " The spinster did not ask if the mother lived; the question was inconsequent. "You may," replied Jack: "I'll fight for you to the last gasp.
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