Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. “My hand! This isn’t the place. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence.
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