"I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door. ” “As long as you remain under my roof—” he began, and paused. We were only—les autres. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense.
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