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” “Bring me a whisky and soda, and a box of cigarettes,” Ennison answered, “and then leave me alone, there’s a good fellow. And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. Footman or some such. Sheppard had been interred. He drew her to him and tipped her chin towards him. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes.
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