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His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. ’ ‘Will you have done, Gerald?’ demanded Hilary, exasperated. Then the hotel manager struck his palms together sharply, and two Chinese "boys" came pattering in from the dining room. Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. 1 through 1. Drummond,” he continued, looking across at his vis-à-vis, “we look to you to give expression to our sentiments. ” He left off abruptly. “Thank Heaven, they are bringing the hors d’oeuvres. There was a time, long, long ago, when the tears would have rushed to my eyes unbidden at the bare mention of generosity like yours, Mr.
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