But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. They had been so considerate of the earth they had touched that they barely left a footprint. Their future would be glorious; he saw it in their eyes; he saw it in the beauty of their young heads. Pearls in the dawn light, flashing and burning! "You don't like your island?" "I hate it!… But, there!"—weariness edging in. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur.
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