All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. Each human contact leaves some indelible mark. After this occurence, not a word was exchanged between them until they came in sight of the sloop, which was lying at anchor off Wapping. "Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him.
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