“I throw it out in passing,” he said. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. He dropped the key on the counterpane. She’s got a great imagination. . “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. So they fenced with smiles. I hated the stuff. .
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