He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. At present the world waits for that writer, and the confused record of the newspapers remains the only resource of the curious. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor. Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health.
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