“What’s that for?” He said. “He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. His car, a black Alfa Romeo, waited at the end of the subdivision. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently anxious to avoid being detained. . He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery.
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