Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. "There's his knock. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. If, around noon, a coconut proa landed, the boys made no effort to unload. I’m not Gerald, remember. Spurlock knew exactly what he was doing, however: speculative mischief, to see how she would act. "I understand," she said.
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