Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. I don't have a phone in my room. Thames Street was wholly impassable. That knot also would be cut. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate.
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