James Boyle O'Higgins knew little or nothing of the South Seas, but he knew human beings, all colours. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners. “I got Sydney’s telegram at ten o’clock, and caught the ten-thirty from the Gare du Nord. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. ‘Étes-vous Francais?’ Her eyes, he noted, followed from himself to Hilary and back again, but she did not speak.
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