Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. "You should be glad to be made an honest woman. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. You don’t have to live forever to understand that.
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