" "Oh Heavens!" cried Jack, driven to his wits' end. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe.
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