It engulfed them in black, white, and gray. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily.
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