“Some day,” she answered. She uncrossed her legs and lowered herself, carefully and slowly, until she lay supine. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. The tables were then cleared. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. I rather think they have kicked him, from the tone of some of the letters.
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