Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement. Shari’s head poked out of the bathroom where she had been preoccupied with preparations for her morning shower. Sebastian's arms were about her, his fists pumping her stomach as she coughed forth saltwater from her belly and lungs. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. . “Thank God,” he exclaimed.
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