He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. Is there?” “Nothing,” said Ann Veronica, with a radiant face. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners. Your mind is still subtly sick. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet.
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