“I am under police surveillance,” she said. Bête, she told herself fiercely. ‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies. The curve of his shoulders, the very angle of his feet, expressed relief at her apparent obedience. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun.
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