Chapter XXX
SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE
Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing
letters. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she
exclaimed. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down
that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. ”
“The real, identical other,” said Capes, and took and bit the tip of her little
finger. She dared not look directly at him, her
head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped
appearance of an androgynous adolescent. To reach the door they had to pass the end
of the table, and behind the chair where Mr.
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