Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. "What is all this, dear Winny?" inquired Thames, as soon as they were alone. Everything goes—the copra for oil, the fibre of the husk for rope, and the shell for carbon. Still—you must learn for yourself. ‘Wait! At least tell me where I can find you. The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation.
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