‘If you will not tell me about Valade, so be it. She made noises between weeping and laughter as she went. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. The weather harmonized with their feelings. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. ’ The sharp eyes twinkled.
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