It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. Before he forced an entrance, Jack tried it, and, to his great surprise and delight, found it unfastened.
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