" "I know where she will be found, and how," rejoined Jack with a shudder. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls.
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