" "What's he know about copra and native talk?" "Nothing, probably; but I'll wager he'll pick it all up fast enough. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. She was to have fifteen pounds, and no more.
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