“He fell over at my feet,” she continued. She seemed to be making some sort of inventory. You say I know nothing. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. ” Nothing unusual was discovered in any other part of the flat. Diane spoke first. What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically.
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