“Go to London,” said Ann Veronica. “Please don’t,” she said. “It’s a way of avoiding explanations. The Law was around the corner and down the narrow hall, puffing a Virginia Slims Menthol in frantic sips, teetering uncomfortably out of an emergency exit door. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. Stay! I'll go myself. His destination was the New Mint.
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