“A joke! Sir John, if you had presented yourself here an hour ago we should have greeted you in pained silence. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Through it all Spurlock maintained a gaiety which deceived them completely. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. Ann Veronica found herself in the presence of the most disconcerting fact in human experience, the kindliness of people you believe to be thoroughly wrong. She was in deadly earnest in everything she did. A married man!—the kind I've never been able to lure down there! But keep your temper in check. It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat.
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