The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. ” Like most men who lie but seldom, he lied well. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things.
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