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They mean something. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. Nobody can trust you. Buck up. "I'm come to say good bye to you, and to assure you of my safety before I leave this place. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. 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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