She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. “You do not quite understand,” she said gently. Stanley and his sister into a taxicab, and had waved an amiable farewell from the pavement steps. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. James Boyle O'Higgins knew little or nothing of the South Seas, but he knew human beings, all colours.
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