“I didn’t understand, Vee. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. Several people were passed out on the sectional sofa, and muffled noises emanated from other rooms indicating that the party’s embers were still smoldering, but John was nowhere to be seen. I will confide it to Father Spencer, who will acquaint you with it when I am no more. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. It’s the public entrance. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious.
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