She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. Michelle winked at her and left to join the gathering of seats in the center of the theater. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. "Shotbolt! by—" cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish.
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