‘As for you—’ ‘Do not address me. ” He spoke of secretarial work, but even there she would need to be able to do typing and shorthand. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. ‘And she’s—’ She broke off, a sudden light in her eyes. She moved then, fast, taking refuge behind a Chinese screen that was set beside the four-poster at the back of the room. After that night she made it a habit. Never had he been so intrigued.
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