" "The woman I mean did not join the assault," rejoined the Master, "but rather seemed to shun observation; and, from the hasty glimpse I caught of her, she appeared to have a child in her arms. \" Mark was tall and skinny, a mop of brown hair over a pillar of freckles. It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith. By a sort of instinct. They negotiated several steps, and then the stair turned a corner. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. Spurling, who wished to protract the discovery of the escape as long as possible. .
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