Always as black and bitter as gall. And for many years, that was the way it was. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. And experience was slow in coming. ’ ‘Don’t be a fool, woman,’ snapped Charvill, thrusting himself further into the room. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands.
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