” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. He shook his head all the time. "Well, my pretty dears," he added, "—to see your husband, eh? You must make the most of your time. Lucy sat in the back seat as the trio sped through intersections in the old sedan. Chairs were overturned. His bodily suffering, however, was nothing compared with his mental anguish.
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