She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. She wanted to turn him. . He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images.
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