” Annabel’s hand stole into his. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. Mr. I'll tell you what. She liked to do it for Cathy Beck, so that she could relax after waitressing all day at the Big Apple with a homemade meal. I’ll get in trouble.
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