Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. " The doctor was in the middle fifties, gray and careworn, but with alert blue eyes and a gentle mouth. “I regret that you should ever have proposed it,” he went on. Rummage, my boy, do. " "You are offering your hand to me?" "Without reservations. ” “Oh, you are strong and brave,” Annabel murmured. ” “I wish you good luck,” she answered.
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