’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. " "Have you told her?" "Told her? Told her what?" Spurlock sat straight in his chair. Lincoln lost to Glenbrook South miserably, the score eight to two. It added to the picturesqueness of the Sha-mien night to observe these gaily coloured lanterns dancing hither and yon like June fireflies in a meadow. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes.
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