She was listed for the raid—she was informed it was to be a raid upon the House of Commons, though no particulars were given her—and told to go alone to 14, Dexter Street, Westminster, and not to ask any policeman to direct her. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes.
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