I have a hundred of them—mixed blood—on my island, and they are always rooking me. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. "And so this is a diamond," added he, contemplating the brilliant from the hollow of his hand: "it does sparkle almost as brightly as your ogles.
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