Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. It was comforting to have her there, snoring gently. And Ritter’s, too, was very amusing and foreign and discreet; a little rambling room with a number of small tables, with red electric light shades and flowers. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. The Storm.
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