He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. He's on the ragged edge. Her body rose up to meet his in a cat-like stretch and she smiled. It is but a wild threat. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. Courtlaw opened his lips, but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. Then Mike came along.
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