She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. He built her the most beautiful castle 242 in the world in the desert, carving fountains where real water ran and gardens in a place where no plant had ever bloomed. Of course I knew all about him years ago, and he is exactly like everybody’s description of him. "Because you did not wish to hurt me?" "Yes. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth.
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