The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. She did not twitch. “Thought so. "Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all. ‘Don’t lose your temper again. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. Smith's solitary orb followed in the same direction.
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