The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. For a second time Ann Veronica wanted to swear at the universe. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. Quickly a battle ensued as Larry tried to squeeze workman’s compensation from his employer. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting.
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