The streets were full of colour. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. He was a large oafish man, a man that seemed deceptively harmless, and some thought him slightly retarded. "Won't you be persuaded, Joan?" he added, making a similar offer to Mrs. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him.
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