CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. He was angry. Sometimes he was obviously irritable and uncomfortable and unfortunate in his efforts to seem at ease. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. ‘What are the chances, do you think, of that thing being already cocked?’ ‘Probably not even loaded,’ suggested Hilary hopefully. ” He smiled at her.
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