Above the housetops it was different. More importantly, she had her wits. It was cheating, pitiful cheating. ” “Any one could see that the girls were ladies,” Ennison murmured. Dolls. ” She laughed softly. ” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage. She is no longer mine; she is yours.
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