The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. "And the will?" he said, with forced calmness. She infused menace into her voice. I never see them, they never even call. I have squeezed three kids into it afore now. They seemed the most wrapped things in all Ann Veronica’s wrappered world. I wonder if a man can quite understand that passionate feeling? It is quite a passionate feeling.
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