Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. She pulled him down by his lapels and arched her head readily towards his neck. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. David Courtlaw. Observe it—a blue-serge coat. Lucy turned and faced the strawberry blonde behind her, gesturing rapidly with a folded origami triangle, evidently the newest form of note. Here they would be having lunch.
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