John picked it up and put it in her hands. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. One of his converted Kanakas dropped in one day. The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. ‘Oh, famous.
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