The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. ‘She ought to be. ” He threw the stone protecting the crypt to one side. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images.
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