You don’t want to look like Bozo. “Who can tell?” she said. Alone; not even the dog to warn her, and Hoddy deep in the island somewhere. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. “Yes, but maybe later.
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