The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. Mike chortled. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. And he would express various artistic sensibilities and aesthetic appreciations in carefully punctuated sentences and a large, clear voice. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. ” He was not in the least surprised.
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