"You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. The island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. It was the girl. Just sit down on that stool again and let’s talk of this in cold blood.
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