He stopped in mid-sentence, and Ann Veronica opened the door for her aunt. “Won’t you tell me why you have come to England?” she said. Alban's to-night. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. You were dying and your baby along with you. "Ruth?" he called. "Arundel Stairs," replied Wood, "the nearest point to Wych Street. He shuddered.
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