Water soaked her through in five minutes. “I had a visit from Sir John in my rooms,” she said. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. You know the danger of this breakneck road as well as I do. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world. You act your part capitally, but it won't do. He might have supposed the fellow would be eager to be rid of the tale, for that he might have longer to enjoy the amenities of the Triumphal Chariot where the meeting had been appointed. Still, I suppose Melusine can always sell the house. And there was that dress of hers! She must be warned that she had been imposed upon. And don’t talk until we’re well out of earshot.
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