‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner. There was a very substantial profit in the transaction, for he paid the natives in commodities—coloured cotton cloths, pipes and tobacco, guns and ammunition, household utensils, cutlery and glass gewgaws. The dance itself was anticlimactic, with teenagers trying their best to look the part of adult sophisticates on the dance floor.
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