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Orne sat down in the vacant seat opposite her. What a handsome woman! he thought. Polly, on Orne's right, looked younger and softer in a green stola gown that hazed her barrel contours. Bullone, across from her, wore black lounging shorts and knee-length kubi jacket of golden pearl cloth. Everything about the people and setting reeked of wealth, power.
"I'm inclined to agree with you, Madame," said Spencer. "Only from a different point of view." He glanced at Stetson. "Any word yet on Scottie Bullone?" "They were going to call me the minute they found him," said Stetson. His voice sounded cautious, brooding. "You were coming to the party here tonight, weren't you, admiral?" asked Orne. "What's that have to do with anything?" demanded Spencer.
Vaudemont took the letter and read as follows: "DEAR WILLIAM, No go about the youngster I went after: all researches in vane. Paris develish expensive. Never mind, I have sene the other the young B ; different sort of fellow from his father very ill frightened out of his wits will go off to the governor, take me with him as far as Bullone. I think we shall settel it now.
When the chauffeur-driven limousine flitter had dropped down to the house's landing pad, Orne had seen a parasol and sunhat nodding to each other on the blue tiles beside the pool. The parasol had shielded Polly Bullone. The sunhat had been worn by a shapely young woman in swimming tights, who had rushed off into the house.
Mind as I saide before, don't put your foot in it. I send you a Nap in the Seele all I can spare. "Yours, "JEREMIAH SMITH. "Direct to me, Monsieur Smith always a safe name Ship Inn, Bullone." "Jeremiah Smith Jeremiah!" "Do you know the name then?" said Mr. Barlow.
Unless this is a pose, this doesn't sound like a man who wants to grab more power, thought Orne. "Scottie, you should take more pride in your office!" snapped Polly. "You're an important man." "If it weren't for you, I'd be a nobody and prefer it," said Bullone. He grinned at Orne. "I'm a political idiot compared to my wife. Never saw anyone who could call the turn like she does.
Why, he talks English as good as you and me. That's another thing about these frawgs they can all parlez-vous any language. I never yet seen a Frenchie I couldn't talk to yet." "Did you ever see anybody you couldn't talk to yet, Steve?" suggested the chief yeoman. "Here, you, how d'ya get that way? Who was it I seen th' other night out walking in the Boy de Bullone with a skirt?
Ipscott Bullone of Marak, wife of the High Commissioner, to take over for family." It was signed: "Madrena Orne Standish, sister." With some misgivings, Stetson called the residence of Ipscott Bullone, leader of the majority party in the Marak Assembly. Mrs. Bullone took the call with blank screen. There was a sound of running water in the background.
Orne glanced around the table, met anxious attention in each face. He pushed his chair back, said: "Well, if you really don't mind " "Mind!" barked Polly. "You scoot along now!" "See you in the morning. Lew," said Diana. He nodded, turned away, thinking: What a handsome woman! As he started down the hall, he heard Bullone say to Diana: "Di, perhaps you'd better not take that boy out tomorrow.
Runs in her family. Her mother was the same way." Orne stared at him, fork raised from plate and motionless. A sudden idea had exploded in his mind. "You must know something of this life, Lewis," said Bullone. "Your father was member for Chargon once, wasn't he?" "Yes," murmured Orne. "But that was before I was born. He died in office." He shook his head, thought: It couldn't be ... but
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