’ ‘Which is exactly what started us off,’ Gerald said to his friend with a grin, as he gave up his injured hand to the other’s ministrations. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. Only I just want him. ’ ‘For shame, Hilary,’ admonished his fiancée, casting a pitying glance at the refugees. . Jackson, to the swig.
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