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have seen the deprecating eye and the little intricate dancing
step. Well, his trouble is over now, he has lain down with kings and
councillors; the rest of his acts, are they not written in the book
of the chronicles? That fellow was from Penrhyn; like all the Penrhyn
islanders he was ill to manage; heady, jealous, violent: the man with
the nose! He lies here quiet enough. And so they all lie.
"
And darkness was the burier of the dead!"'
He stood, in the strong glow of the sunset, with bowed head; his voice
sounded now sweet and now bitter with the varying sense.
'You loved these people?' cried Herrick, strangely touched.
'I?' said Attwater. 'Dear no! Don't think me a philanthropist. I dislike
men, and hate women. If I like the islands at all, it is because you see
them here plucked of their lendings, their dead birds and cocked hats,
their petticoats and coloured hose. Here was one I liked though,' and he
set his foot upon a mound. 'He was a fine savage fellow; he had a dark
soul; yes, I liked this one. I am fanciful,' he added, looking hard at
Herrick, 'and I take fads. I like you.'
Herrick turned swiftly and looked far away to where the clouds were
beginning to troop together and amass themselves round the obsequies of
day. 'No one can like me,' he said.
'You are wrong there,' said the other, 'as a man usually is about
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