"To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. ‘General, we do not know. ‘Assuming she can prove her identity, does Remenham House belong to her?’ Mrs Sindlesham shifted her shoulders. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast.
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