‘I assure you it was mutual. Winifred, you are deceived in me. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. Everything goes—the copra for oil, the fibre of the husk for rope, and the shell for carbon. Tell me what you think the island is like. “A wonderful piece of work,” he declared. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently.
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