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In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. “You are making your dress?” “Such as it is. ‘I left a message at home that he should do so as soon as he returned from Kent. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. ‘As for you—’ ‘Do not address me. And so, here we are, right back from where we started. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more.
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