McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. O'Higgins returned to town and made a night of it, nothing very wild, nothing very desperate. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. Anna’s face however was wholly impassive.
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