She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. She had no intention of fighting fair. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. It was not in evidence here, not a sign of it. ‘You are not the only one to seek them out,’ he said.
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