Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. From beginning to end it was first-hand stuff. Somehow or other his reputation as a hardened and unassailable bachelor had won for him during the last few years a comparative immunity from attentions on the part of those women with whom he had been brought into contact. Creeping along quickly on his hands and knees, he found the entrance to a covered drain, into which he crept. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. I've a question to ask him. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. " There was a brief, breathless pause.
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