The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. For whom had its sharp point been intended? Valade? Or perhaps his wife now that the girl had word of their marriage. As the movie reached its predictable apex, she clutched his right knee in a careful imitation of fear.
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