Jackson’s. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. Evidently he was gazing at the dull red roofs of the city: but was he registering what he saw? Never glance sideways at man, the old Kanaka woman had said. The younger of the two, who was seated next to Jack, and seemed to monopolize his attention, could not be more than seventeen, though her person had all the maturity of twenty. ‘You can’t go to England.
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