As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. Without a single ornament about her neck, or hair, wearing the plainest of black gowns, out of which her shoulders shone gleaming white, she was easily the most noticeable and the most distinguished-looking woman in the room. The father would be all steel. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. Everything goes—the copra for oil, the fibre of the husk for rope, and the shell for carbon.
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