"Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. Without a word, without a sign, Enschede started toward the beach, where his proa waited. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. F. Very fascinating, though, trying to analyse the impulse. She pushed at the closer of the two soldiers bearing the precious burden.
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