” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. " "We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. He knew. " He summoned another "boy" and rumbled some Cantonese.
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