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" "My strength fails me," gasped the fugitive. Let your father—if he chooses, leave all his wealth to his adopted son. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. His statement was treated with derision. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre.
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