He relayed many details of the location and the beautiful rivers of her home, a subject she never tired of. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. Of course, he had no idea who I was.
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