She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. "Set it down, I tell you," thundered Blueskin, "or I shall do it a mischief. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one.
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