9. There stepped forth a tall brown man. Get all ready for his reception. He's the only native I trust in these parts. "These writer chaps are queer birds. "No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required.
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