She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. E. Kneebone, Mrs. An ugly flush stained his cheeks.
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