. . It had a tiny flaw, most bizarre. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. He took her hand in his, raising it closer, and gently touched the maltreated skin. For Mr Jarvis was beside himself when the letter come from Mr Charvill and he knew he’d lost you as well as Miss Mary. I don’t idealize you. My wife—killed me. "Tell me, what did they call you?" "Well, the old Kanaka cook used to call me the Golden One, but the natives called me the Dawn Pearl. Several people in the crowd seemed to be fighting. I’ll be waiting for you outside. You know that, and I know that, though we might be put to it to find a reason why. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames's long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand.
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