In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. It had been her father’s surname, and it had sounded far more innocuous and American than Iovelli. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one. Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office. But perhaps I had better get a room in an hotel to-night and look round.
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