The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. ” “It wouldn’t be you either. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. "Let him remain," interposed Trenchard. She wasn’t sure of herself when she said it.
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