"Constance—or, rather, Mrs. She wondered what the problem was, why the buildup? She wanted to go to his apartment that evening but stayed herself. Paul’s, were rich and wonderful with the soft sunshine of London, the softest, the finest grained, the most penetrating and least emphatic sunshine in the world. She walked back to the car. " "In what way, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, in astonishment.
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