He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. They are not your flowers.
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