Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. Not up here, I think. "He's dead," exclaimed Austin. "You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson. She was dropped off at 2:30 at Whitefield Park, a huge extravagantly lit field in the new part of town.
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