"I thought we were going to have some music," she said. Pure luck! But for that bottle of whisky, nobody in the Hong-Kong Hotel would have been able to identify the photograph; and at this hour James Boyle O'Higgins would have been on the way to Yokohama, and the trail lost for ever. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. It was an overcast day, albeit not foggy, and the electric light shades glowed warmly, and an Italian waiter with insufficient English took Ramage’s orders, and waited with an appearance of affection. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910.
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