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She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. ‘What?’ ‘Nothing,’ snapped Roding, with an odd look at his bride to be that Gerald could not interpret. “No one has a better right than I to be with you. The Wastrel did not relish this.
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