The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. She walked across to this apartment and, opening the door a little wider, discovered a press section of the movement at work.
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