\"Where have you been, young lady?\" Mike crooned, a large grin on his fat Irish face. ‘Unless he is himself a man of substance. ’ He paused, but Melusine caught the inference. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. If there was a Yankee bar-keep in HongKong, James Boyle would soon locate him. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience.
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