James Boyle O'Higgins knew little or nothing of the South Seas, but he knew human beings, all colours. Then she shrugged. It isn’t the same thing. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. At this piece of information, the two subordinate officers were observed to exchange glances; and, after a little agreeable raillery on their captain's gallantry, they begged permission to accompany him in his visit. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them.
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