"You are," replied Kneebone. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. The farmer had become obsessed with her and asked her to marry. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. “Ciao, Fragolina. In this part of the world it is wise never to be separated from your luggage. . I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. She heard the television blaring away.
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