She looked at her for a moment fixedly. A wedding procession turned the corner. But I'm not worrying about that. It doesn’t matter. "You," answered Jack, abruptly. ” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked.
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