The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. ” John peered at her as she went to him. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. “Why?” he asked, suavely. Ramage went up the Avenue, and she hurried along the path with a beating heart and a disagreeable sense of unsolved problems in her mind.
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