“Hainault, Celeste’s friend. Captain Roding strode into the parlour. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. "My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. It’s not you—not a bit. Don’t leave me in this beastly thing.
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