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Then blackness. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. ‘I have only borrowed it. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. For a space he rode the whirligig. His literary instincts began to stir. ’ Gerald moved to the long sofa, dusted it with elaborate care with one of its cushions, and with a gesture invited her to sit down. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. ’ She focused on Gerald’s face. Lives by his wits and gambling. That’s how it takes me. He’s just. My father thought the latter.
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