Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister had simply revelled in her indiscretions. There were swift actions, too: a Kanaka crawled out upon the bowsprit to make taut a slack stay, while two others with pulley-blocks swarmed aloft. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. For hours after she had not been sensible to life, only to exquisite echoes.
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