“Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. Then Manning flopped back in his chair and dropped his chin like a man shot. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. She threw him his car keys. It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H. They were horrible people.
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