They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. ” Lucy begged. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. There was no way to warn her of his presence without startling her. "We shall be obliged to force it. His eyes never left her face.
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