“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. What you would look upon as immorality is here merely an established custom, three thousand years older than Christianity, accepted with no more ado than that which would accompany you should you become a clerk in a shop. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. . " "Absolutely. Everything had so far come to pass as the withered old Kanaka woman had foretold.
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