She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual.
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