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The youth of them! And what was he going to do when they left his island? What would Donald McClintock be doing with himself, when youth left the island, never more to return? Ruth was thrilling with joy. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. Is this man Hill dead?” She shook her head. “Lucy. To-morrow morning I shall have made up my mind what to do.
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