It is what I have done. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. There was a strained, eager expression on his face. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly.
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