It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. It simply doesn’t count. ‘She’s perfectly right. “I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder. Call her Miss Pellissier, eh? I tell you she’s my wife, and I’ve got the certificate in my pocket.
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