The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. ‘You are the one that I have met in London. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech.
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