He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. It’s a thing I’ve unaccountably overlooked. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. His arm fell to his side. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love.
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