“You have forgotten. She too had seen. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. ’ Lucy was silent for a space, once again wearing that inscrutable expression. That old chap has a remarkable range in reading.
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