I’m starving. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. “It’s magnificent!” He leaned back and regarded her with his head a little on one side. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed.
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