All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. “Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. "Good bye!" cried Jack, as if taking leave of his mistresses, "to-morrow, at the same time. "Rot, weren't they?" "No. ‘Here we go again. She watched the people and hummed softly to herself. just furtive meetings. To get behind that impenetrable curtain, to learn why she hated her island.
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