It was a pity people had to eat food. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father.
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