On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. One has to train one’s self not to. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. "Well, Sir?" gasped Sir Rowland. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. So he made his dispositions and went off on some other fool’s errand.
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