The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. What! mum still. ” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. . C.
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