The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. A young man was playing the banjo. CHAPTER XXVIII. ” A man who had been sitting with his hat tilted over his eyes at an adjacent table had risen to his feet and stood suddenly before them. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. Sheppard wildly. Ray did not pace, he just stood.
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