Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly. The boy was coming around. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work.
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