Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ’ ‘But you are not a surgeon,’ protested Melusine. The stores, the drying bins, McClintock's bungalows and the native huts sprawled around an exquisite landlocked lagoon.
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