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He went up the step and lighted the lamp. Hatteras followed him and the two men faced one another. For a little while neither of them spoke. Walker was repeating to himself that this man with the black skin, naked except for a dirty loincloth and a few feathers on his head was a white man married to a white wife who was sleeping--Nay, more likely crying--not thirty yards away.
Hatteras began to mumble out his usual explanation of duty and the rest of it.
"That won't wash," interrupted Walker. "What is it? A woman?"
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