” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. "Miss Enschede and Mr. " "You'd better take care of your mother's son instead," rejoined Blueskin. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. "But I am now coming to the point which most concerns you.
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