’ Grudgingly, the sergeant shifted aside and allowed her access to the stairs, grumbling to her retreating back, ‘If I’d me way, missie, I’d send you back to France where you ought never to have come away from, if you arst me. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. "Is it poison?" she asked. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address. I suspect he has been at work upon those he has on. She is in the hall now.
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