She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. "Is it poison?" she asked. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. The Yale spirit! James Boyle O'Higgins was, as the saying goes, somewhat out of luck. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir. Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, while overhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled.
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