‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. He was the Napoleon of knavery, and established an uncontrolled empire over all the practitioners of crime. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves.
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