Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. ‘I’m only surprised you have not released yourself. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. Not only that, but he carried himself erect— the slight slouch which had bent his shoulders had altogether disappeared. Fritz flailed against his mother wildly, crying generous tears. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. Gerald, intent on his trail, ignored it.
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