This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. Steps to aid the descent, which was too steep to be safe without them, led to, a door on the opposite side. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. It’s your first evening, and early impressions do count for so much. We shall become a prey to the Philistines, and must turn honest in self-defence.
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