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THE BLACK CAMEL

airily. “I’ve sold a picture, Nada. You know, that’s more than Corot ever did.” He leaned across the counter confidentially. “Poor old Corot, Nada, never got on to himself. It’s all in being outside the right window at the right time.”

“Mebbe so,” agreed Nada. “Much better you go along now. Room numba seven, like always.”

“It’s great to be home,” Smith answered, and went out, whistling a merry tune.

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