Just an idea of mine. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. He had barely settled at his desk in his library, when he was disturbed by two morning callers. You’re tired, of course. But we cannot discuss this here. . “I never planned it—And now I have begun—” She felt acutely that he was entitled to explanations, and as acutely that explanations were impossible that night.
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