He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. Was he planning on spending more time with her once in the country? The streets choked with beggars and the dying. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. God send the fellow did turn out to be a spy! Beckoning Roding on, Gerald crept down the corridor towards the source of the swishing he had heard.
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