"How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. "How, Sir?" "Except by adoption. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying.
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