That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. Where was the message? Where was Gerald? Until he came back, what was there for her to do? Eh bien, it made no sense to do anything. I'm hungry. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself.
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