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Updated: May 22, 2025
So I got no cocoanut-pudding that evening, but I conceived a distrust as to the value of the method of the head-hunters. Perhaps for many centuries the maidens of the villages may have been looking wistfully at the heads in the baskets at the doorways, longing for other and lesser trophies.
Merely a little fever. I am out again, as you see." We three sat there and talked for half an hour or so. Then Chloe looked out yearningly and almost piteously across the ocean. I could see in her sea-blue eyes some deep and intense desire. Devoe, curse him! saw it too. "What is it?" we asked, in unison. "Cocoanut-pudding," said Chloe, pathetically. "I've wanted some oh, so badly, for two days.
I saw the red stains vanish from Chloe's apron, and the head of Louis Devoe turn to a brown, dried cocoanut. "There will be cocoanut-pudding for dinner, Tommy, boy," said Chloe, gayly, "and you must come. I must go in for a little while." She vanished in a delightful flutter. Dr. Stamford tramped up hurriedly. He seized my pulse as though it were his own property that I had escaped with.
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