Then he looked across at Mrs Sindlesham. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. My best endeavours shall be used to bring you off, on the easy terms I have mentioned. ” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day.
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