He slackened his pace as he reached the flat. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. "Well, my pretty dears," he added, "—to see your husband, eh? You must make the most of your time. ” Lucy appeared and appraised him briefly, nonchalantly. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. I should have thought my note cleared up everything. " "Oh Heavens!" cried Jack, driven to his wits' end.
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