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. The idea of leaving for Mexico had become unbearable, as he was so easy to like and perhaps even easier to love. Missy looked like a troll with lipstick on. I don’t want to bother you, of course. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question.
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