Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label. ’ ‘Excellent,’ Gerald had approved. ‘You mean I should give myself a dressingdown? Very well. ” “Why?” she asked. Jack Kimble nodded eagerly. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me.
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