But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. Heedless, however, of the consequences, he pursued his task. ‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled.
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