It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. But all of that was forgotten. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on.
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