A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. ‘First I must see Jacques, and—’ ‘No need for that,’ intervened Roding, grasping her arm and trying to drag her to the door. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. You'll have it down. If you can imagine it, I survived it. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. ” He admonished.
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