ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. Her gratitude swelled within her. ” Michelle sat in a yogi’s posture on the cold plywood, her eyes closed as if meditating. And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket.
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