There were always parrots and parrakeets screaming in the fruit groves. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. "Come," said Wild, turning authoritatively to Jack,—"you have overstayed your time. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. See paragraph 1.
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