“Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. ‘I am not a fool. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. He resumed his listening. ‘It does not seem to me that you can be an emissary for that pig.
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