She made no attempt to answer her sister’s question. ‘Jacques, do not go!’ Jack gazed steadfastly at the floor. For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks. Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was continually attracting. Sir Rowland, who had continued absorbed in thought, with his eyes fixed upon the sloop, as she made her way slowly down the river, disembarked more leisurely. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. 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. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. Never really thought about Him—people don’t.
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