Charvill’s fury was burning out. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. “Looks like old times here, I see. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. She recoiled. And I'll answer for it, she'll never say a syllable to annoy you again. She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat. White looked mysteriously about the room as though to be sure that no one was listening.
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