"Follow me, Thames," cried Jack, dropping into the chasm. That could signify nothing except that the doctor had a friend down there somewhere, on an island in one of those archipelagoes. Ann Veronica was carried off her intellectual and critical feet by it altogether, and applauded and uttered cries that subsequent reflection failed to endorse. "Won't be under an obligation. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love.
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