He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret. She entered the last room,
his bedroom. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. He did not care whether the stories
were accepted or not. To-day he selected the girl, and gave her the lead-chair. Presently the odour of
burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. “And I’m
not happy. A few seasons went by where he
initiated her into the disgusting rituals of killing and eating
human beings, a dark time where she pined for a rescuer
who never arrived. Nasty, damp passages. Morgan the trader did
not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. You are not a tourist seeking adventure. What right had
she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 05-07-2024 11:34:40