She was new, unlike any other woman he had met in all his wide travel. I'm heading for bed. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. "But I have one last request to make. I—well, I borrowed Anna’s name. I'll call it my wedding gift. David Courtlaw.
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