” He shook his head, and his eyes and the mouth under the black mustache wrinkled with his smile. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. ” “You are foolish,” she declared, with a note of irritability in her tone.
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