‘That is my mother. ‘Looks like it. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. " "And who is its mother?" asked Jonathan, in an eager whisper.
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