She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. The change in her face was not a pleasant one. She had never seen her sitting on tables nor heard her discussing theology, and had failed to observe that the graceful figure was a natural one and not due to ably chosen stays. . Rummage, my boy, do.
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