She sensed his acute frustration as he unzipped her raincoat while trying to kiss her. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. He can't be far off.
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