Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. They sold him the whisky. “Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. "Agreed," responded the Master. " "I will have none till I have forced the villain's name from you!" he cried, stamping the floor with rage. And me, I know very much of soldiers.
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