"How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. . ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. " "Couldn't … couldn't I go with you this afternoon?" "Too hot.
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