In Singapore that had been her only dissipation: a dozen pairs of silk stockings. 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. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. They don’t count, and I don’t care. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. ‘I have told you that I am entirely English. ’ ‘Eh bien, what then?’ Emile sidled closer. There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its own. ‘This is insupportable.
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