’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. Stanley’s pace slackened. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. You want me to be clean. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife.
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