Jack had well-nigh fallen too. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. White——” “No more,” Sydney Courtlaw begged, laughingly. The end of the world seemed at hand. They sold him the whisky. “You have a boyfriend! That’s fine by me, it’s your business, but you’d better stop sneaking around because Sheila’s got eyes in the back of her head!” He heard Sheila utter a loud percussive blast of a snore from the master bedroom.
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