‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. Spurling has induced him to sit down again. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. “I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that.
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