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He would have to return to Hong-Kong; and his trail would be picked up the moment he set foot on the Praya. He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. ” She replied informally. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp.
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