She held out her arm straight before her, and turned her hand this way and that. Until she had left her island, what she heard and what she saw were truths. Clean water. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. So she brought upon the stage the Reverend Henry Dolby, a preacher of means, worldly-wise and kindly, cheery and rotund, who, with his wife and daughter, had arrived at the Victoria that morning. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents.
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