She pulled down her veil and made her way to the door. McClintock had brought from Penang three mangosteen evergreens; and, wonders of wonders, they had thrived —as trees. Mike and Shari sat at the kitchen table eating potato chips. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. That was Leonardo’s motto. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person.
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