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" Downstairs he sought the hotel manager. But, be like a son to her. “Eight, Cavendish Square. ‘Talk to me another time. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. But if you have considerable money, you had better leave it in the office safe. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks.
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