A small voice greeted her, hissing. ‘You escape from your own convent, at great personal danger. “Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. ” She felt his heart warming the small room like a radiator. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images.
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