She recalled that day of the typhoon and the sloop crashing on the outer reefs. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. It had certainly caused some havoc in the uninhabited mansion, chewing through Holland covers to get at the furniture beneath, and knocking down a fire guard and a couple of wooden stands. Won’t you come and have some tea with me? There is a new place in Bond Street,” he hastened to say, “where everything is very well done, and they give us music, if that is any attraction to you. ” She gave him a Marboro which he lit with a Zippo with an American flag on it. It got on my nerves—the women I saw.
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