"Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. ’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. \"Drives a red Jeep?\" \"Uh-huh. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. "I knew it. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers.
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