“We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. How to hold her, how to keep her at his side; this was the problem with which he struggled. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. You’ll never see the light of day as long as you live. White gasped, and then stiffened.
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