Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. What is he—English or American?" "American. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. ’ Then she frowned.
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