He began to tell me something—and stopped. Deep verandas ran around the bungalows, with bamboo drops which were always down in the daytime, fending off the treacherous sunshine. "This suspense is worse than torture. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. We’ll make short work of them. I speak frankly, because you also know that no possible extremity would induce me to accept help from any living person. But Gerald kept to a casual note. They traveled to distant places, had an apartment in Constantinople and a villa in Paris.
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