Stanley’s pace slackened. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. Had he been listening inside? ‘What is amiss?’ ‘That Frenchie, sir. He left his office at 5:39 according to her watch. ‘And your schooling?’ he pursued. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully.
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