“Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. But I don't understand her; she's over my head. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. Something in her lack of embarrassment irritated him. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. It having been stated that it was wholly impossible he could have removed his irons in the way he represented, he offered, if his handcuffs were replaced, to take them off in the presence of the court.
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