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The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. ” He rose from his chair, and walked restlessly up and down the room. . Tell me that again. " Sir Rowland moved irresolutely towards the door, but recoiled before a sad spectacle. “It’s my fault. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore.
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