The coconut plantation covered the west side. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh. Then you may have a bit of a chance. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers. She wanted his attention, but so did everyone else. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it.
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