He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. "I'll admit that. But I’m generously ignorant of gems. His eyes never left her face. You’d think with as much dick as she gets that she’d cheer up. Am I so forgettable?” He strode down the hall as she ran to catch up with him past lockers someone had painted an abysmal shade of gray blue. "I would have done more, if necessary. Birthdays just ain’t the same once you get old kiddo. I'm neither an infidel nor an agnostic, so I'll content myself by saying that the hand of God is in this somewhere. Then, there's Mr.
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