“I suppose things have changed?” she said. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion.
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