There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. All your faults are just jolly modelling to make you real and solid. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. “I do not suppose he will be home till late. . Jackson’s. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. ’ ‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet.
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