She came to her one day and pulled on her apron. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance.
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