It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. Some of the meetings are wonderful! Such earnest, beautiful women! Such deepbrowed men!.
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