She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. “Dear friend,” she said, “do you not think that you are breaking an unspoken compact? I am very sorry. He was tall and straight, and his expression was good.
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