F. Jonathan cast a hasty glance around, to see that all was properly arranged for his purpose; placed a chair with its back to the door; disposed the lights on the table so as to throw the entrance of the room more into shadow; and then flung himself into a seat to await Sir Rowland's arrival. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient.
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