There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. ’ ‘As if you could stop her. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. "That's all right. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought.
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