That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. Lucy had snuck in the back door by the kitchen and Sheila was ready for her, standing between the stove 124 and the refrigerator. Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess, and salutations around the table. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. And, if ever I'm brought to the gallows, I shall lay my death at her door.
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