Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. She almost submitted to this ending of her adventure. The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters. "I am coming to the point, Joan. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders.
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