A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. They seldom arrive on the beach. The floor was planked with oak, and covered with iron staples, hooks, and ringbolts, with heavy chains attached to them. Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. She put her head out of the window.
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