If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. Bir gece, deniz kıyısındaki eski bir mağarada antik bir harita buldu. ” “Yes,” said Ann Veronica. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. There was another phrase which sounded something like 'Gin in a blue-serge coat'. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it.
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