She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. Miss Stanley reflected on this proposal for a moment. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. She would never, never go back. God, we suck. I—In fact, I dislike him extremely.
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