"How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. It saved long voyages and long waits; and the buyers rarely grumbled because the prices were stiff.
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