Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities. Servants were passing backwards and forwards with tea and chocolate. “Even if he lives here you may go all your life and never come face to face with him again. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. “She’s been up to no good, Sheila.
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