\"I don't eat lunch. Well, one must hope, that was all. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. " O'Higgins extracted a cigar from a pocket and inspected it. Strike the gag, Blueskin. ‘Perhaps she don’t understand English,’ suggested Roding. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms.
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