It is no crime, none at all. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. Wood—and after him came his daughter. “It is very, very difficult,” she continued, looking steadfastly at the ground. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. Primarily your job will be to balance the stores against the influx of coconut and keep an eye on these boys. He would provide the necessities of life and protect her.
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