The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. "One last embrace. He stopped abruptly. ” She dropped back into a crouching attitude and began to weep.
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