. . The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. I rarely set foot in London these days. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. I’ll have to wait here, of course, which means you, Hilary—’ ‘Will have to do tomorrow’s patrol.
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