“I never dreamt!” she said. There was only one sound—the fall of the sea upon the main beach, and even that said: "Hush! Hush! Hus-s-sh!" Not a leaf stirred, not a shadow moved. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. And since then, he has openly avowed his determination of cutting his master's throat on the slightest inkling of treachery.
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