"Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. Don't be afraid. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. I won’t even ask. "You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. Sheppard. Of course, at home there would have been questions. "No, I don't. "You open it, Ruth.
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