He had nothing to guide him; for though the torches were blazing ruddily below, their gleam fell only on the side of the building. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. ‘If you’ll have the goodness, missie, to move yourself out of the way,’ he said aggrievedly, ‘and let us at him, we might have a chance of doing just that. .
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