Mr. So Ruth returned to her room and sorted the books and magazines the doctor had loaned her, inspected the titles and searched for pictures. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. "Mr. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs.
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