“We may just as well have our talk afterwards,” she said, “and I need not keep poor Mr. ’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. I’ll kill you, Sheila, and I’ll kill her too.
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