All that confidence, born of irony, disappeared; and fear laid hold of him. Her little white hand stole across the table. Here's a couple in hand. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked. “Glaciers?” she said.
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