The three of them laughed joyously. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. Anna and her escort exchanged glances. Pardon! I wish to say, for your granddaughter, we seek succour. This is simply a chapter of coincidences.
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