Gerald at once lowered his voice to that intimate level again, and leaned towards her. There was scant social life on the Sha-mien aside from masculine foregatherings, little that interested him. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. It’s an instinct.
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