“Ciao. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. Actually, he had come all this distance simply to fulfil a certain clause in his contract with Fate, to be in Canton on this particular day. 144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally. Mr. m. Ruth will be a gold mine for a man of your peculiar bent. “Quite on my own,” she said. Brendon.
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