Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. She had come across the wicked South Seas which were still infested with cannibals; she had seen drunkenness and called men beachcombers; who was this moment as innocent as a babe, and in the next uttered some bitter wisdom it had taken a thousand years of philosophy to evolve. “What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly. Doesn’t matter a bit to me.
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