"He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. 6. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness.
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