“More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. She would have to leave very soon. He got up brusquely. He was a comforting, humorous old ruffian; but there were few men in the Orient more deeply read in psychology and physiognomy. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. E. All her life Martha had been there.
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