I wouldn't trust a Malay, not if he were reared in the Vatican. She passed inside and upstairs without a word. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. The occasion of all this confusion and dismay, meanwhile, remained perfectly motionless; his figure erect, and with somewhat of dignity in his demeanour. Just dreamed—and ran away even from my dreams.
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