1 Louis, gazing fixedly, betrayed a trouble in his face he was not quite able to hide.
2 He quite ignored my presence, though I credited him with being simply unable to see me.
3 I had never before seen him stripped, and the sight of his body quite took my breath away.
4 Even the wheel, quite a deal higher than the waist, was covered and swept again and again.
5 One thing I was beginning to feel, and that was that I could never again be quite the same man I had been.
6 That she was frightened and bewildered, and that she was bravely striving to hide it, was quite plain to me.
7 But Leach took it quite calmly, though blood was spouting upon the deck as generously as water from a fountain.
8 There was mild protest in his pale blue eyes, and withal a timid frankness and manliness that quite won me to him.
9 As it was, it made me quite squeamish, though this nausea might have been due to the pain of my leg and exhaustion.
10 Wolf Larsen was quite considerate, the sailors helped me, and I was no longer in irritating contact with Thomas Mugridge.
11 I studied her myself, and though it was I who maintained the conversation, I know that I was a bit shy, not quite self-possessed.
12 I felt quite amused at his unwarranted choler, and while he stumped indignantly up and down I fell to dwelling upon the romance of the fog.
13 As for Wolf Larsen and myself, we got along fairly well; though I could not quite rid myself of the idea that right conduct, for me, lay in killing him.
14 Indeed, she was a slender, delicate woman as women go, but to me she was so ethereally slender and delicate that I was quite prepared for her arm to crumble in my grasp.
15 A sailor, from time to time and quite methodically, as a matter of routine, dropped a canvas bucket into the ocean at the end of a rope, hauled it in hand under hand, and sluiced its contents over the prostrate man.
16 I bustled about in quite housewifely fashion, procuring soothing lotions for her sunburn, raiding Wolf Larsen's private stores for a bottle of port I knew to be there, and directing Thomas Mugridge in the preparation of the spare state-room.
17 Wolf Larsen did not laugh, though his grey eyes lighted with a slight glint of amusement; and in that moment, having stepped forward quite close to him, I received my first impression of the man himself, of the man as apart from his body, and from the torrent of blasphemy I had heard him spew forth.
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