He did his best not to grin. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. “Mr. She was struck by a change in his appearance. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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