” She seemed unmoved, but she did not look at him. Everything goes—the copra for oil, the fibre of the husk for rope, and the shell for carbon. 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. ‘Gérard!’ Before she could react to this new menace, the captain spun round. It was just a shabby, stupid, furtive business that began between us.
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