Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. She taught him how to sail a proa, how to hack open a milk-coconut, how to relish bamboo sprouts. "Here he is, waterman," exclaimed the benevolent carpenter. What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. ‘Only me name,’ Kimble said apologetically. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. “Oh, but life is difficult!” she groaned. The two friends contrasted strikingly with each other.
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