The morning swims in the lagoon had thickened the red corpuscle. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again. For what could be more ironical than for Howard Spurlock to see himself grow famous under the name of Taber? The ambrosia of which he had so happily dreamt!—and this gall and wormwood! He stood up and rapped his pipe on the rail.
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