She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. The pistol was lowered slightly. Prudence. She had refused to eat human beings when she had first learned her fate. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. I had rather have trouble and hardship like that than be taken care of by others. From then until four in the afternoon there was nothing to do—the whole island went to sleep.
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