Now what? There was an interest, or why ask him who they were. Bête, she told herself fiercely. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. Manning called. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table.
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