“John, don’t!” she cried. If I let you believe I did not love you, and they found me, your shame would be negligible. I have a hundred of them—mixed blood—on my island, and they are always rooking me. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. And now she comprehended that the man (she had never known him by any name) knew she had surprised the look and had not resented it.
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