” “I may have to run,” said her father, with an appeal to his watch. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing. His fingers closed upon her hand. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls.
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