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She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. She got up and unlocked the door.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 22-09-2024 12:14:50