She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. Ah, but she could remember; and many things there were that she would never forgive. Every one turned to her in astonishment. ‘Why not a French flag?’ ‘Because I don’t believe that fool Pottiswick could tell French from Arabic, even if he heard it as he says he did—which I take leave to doubt.
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