” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. She had come across the wicked South Seas which were still infested with cannibals; she had seen drunkenness and called men beachcombers; who was this moment as innocent as a babe, and in the next uttered some bitter wisdom it had taken a thousand years of philosophy to evolve. “Too greasy for me. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. The point is, Spurlock was coming along: queerly, by his own imagination.
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