And mind you don't arouse his suspicions. “Marriage certificates don’t tell lies, at any rate,” he said. One must be on guard. I’m so glad you’re not angry. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. “I’m sorry Mister McCloskey! I was out seeing my boyfriend!” He stared at her concernedly. ‘If you did not want me to talk of it,’ she told him with characteristic insouciance, ‘you should not have mentioned the matter to me. You need not tell me, but a lawyer is different. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. The commissionaire stood there, tall and imperturbable. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. He reeled, and crashed to the floor.
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