The evenings were dulcet and soft. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. " "What's he know about copra and native talk?" "Nothing, probably; but I'll wager he'll pick it all up fast enough. "It's not an offer," continued he, "that I'm likely to make, or you're likely to receive every day in the year.
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