He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. “You are the most perfect, the most glorious of created things—tender, frank intellectual, brave, beautiful.
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