With his black and gray hair, his gray-green eyes were a striking contrast and he looked even younger, as if he had been frozen at age thirty-three. For she needed him. Neither combatant could use his sword; and in strength the fugitive was evidently superior to his antagonist. Little by little, she stopped hating him. Evidently he was gazing at the dull red roofs of the city: but was he registering what he saw? Never glance sideways at man, the old Kanaka woman had said.
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