‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. . She stepped into his arms. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. . Smith, "upon my conscience.
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