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. She is the image of what I was like, and she has a better voice. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. " "Rely on me," rejoined Kneebone. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland. .
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