She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. Everything goes—the copra for oil, the fibre of the husk for rope, and the shell for carbon. Before that came your father didn’t even know you were gone. You will be wearing your travelling dress, and no doubt you would prefer it. I like the way you shared it.
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