He did not stagger in the least. I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I’m afraid, but if you treat me like this you will teach me to forget it. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. “I wondered. ” “You weren’t rude,” she said. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front.
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