Mrs. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed. The unequal battle went on. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. She peered into the darkness. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. Mike and Shari sat at the kitchen table eating potato chips.
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