She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself. Her eyes noted it mercilessly.
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