A quick flush stained her cheeks. Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. "You had better let me convey her to Dollis Hill," he said. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. “I know the place you mean—very good cooking for such an out-of-the-way show.
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