She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. like, well, um, you’re kind of looking just a little bit homely lately. 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. In fact, I order you to do so.
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