“It is part of the irony of life,” he said. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. For a while he threatened her. The thought of the picture but added to her despondency. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. A bumper round, gentlemen. All my personal effects to be left in charge of the nearest American Consulate. Sebastian was gone and another doctor came to bleed her, to rid her of the black humors that were causing the plague. The visitor was the hotel manager, who respectfully announced that the doctor was ready for her. Come with me to the Condemned Hold directly, and, if I find my fears confirmed, I'll—" He was here interrupted by the sudden entrance of the black, who rushed precipitately into the room, letting fall the heavy bunch of keys in his fright. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again.
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