The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. The whole place had come to life, the magic seeped out of the walls. " "Shall we do so?" whispered Winifred to her father. ‘Is it worth it?’ he asked at last. " CHAPTER XI.
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