We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. You go home and live on the G. Luck.
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