His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer. A young man turned to pay the cabman. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly. Beethoven; he’s the best of them. .
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