Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms. Vorsack rose from the table and departed for the bathroom, mumbling something about a Tylenol. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. He hasn't found himself, as they say. That boy," he added, looking at Thames, "has his eye upon us.
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