Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. “Many nights I have thought of you, Anna. ” And then he flashed his whole conception of the relations of men and women upon her in one astonishing question. You’re mine. One gets a lot more fun married. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. Her face is shaped funny, real long and skinny, and she has no chin. "As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. I don’t think women need to trouble about political questions.
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