In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. Innumerable little puzzles were instantly solved.
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