Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. You can’t do without an agent, and there’s no one can run you better than I can. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony.
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