“Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. ” “You can’t be killed?” He asked. But some little distance behind him, someone had come out from the shadow of the building and, seeing the Frenchman reappear, darted back again as quickly. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind.
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