But I don’t suppose you can understand. CHAPTER XXIII. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. If only we are not divided. Everything had so far come to pass as the withered old Kanaka woman had foretold.
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