"The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that. ” Lucy knew exactly which blouse Sheila had found. ” “But why?” “He’s married—and, I believe, living separated from his wife. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. Of course there are, millions of them. But you don’t particularly want to do the job that sets you free—for its own sake. “Ye Gods!” she said at last.
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