” She leaned back amongst the cushions of her chair. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said.
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