“Nothing was ever done,” Miss Brett asserted, “without a certain element of Faith. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. But he reckoned without his host. She had agonized over it for weeks. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. ” “Yes,” said Mr. Why, is the question I would like answered.
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