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‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. For a time she worried about that compulsory bath and cutaneous diseases. Within forty-eight hours the girl would be on her way east and the boy see-sawing the South China Sea, for ever moving at absolute angles. “Annabel;” he moaned.
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