As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. She packed her things, then ran a mile to Julian’s apartment. ’ Speeding down the two flights of stairs, Gerald mentally thanked God that it was the practice of himself and Roding—in case of emergency, of which this was a prime example—to stable their horses at the posting inns all the way to London.
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