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Sir James Thornhill, then, rose. "Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction. The stores, the drying bins, McClintock's bungalows and the native huts sprawled around an exquisite landlocked lagoon. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. She loved to be told to do things. Caution forced her to speak calmly. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. Why?" "I was just wondering. .
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