‘And just who is Leonardo?’ ‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly. So the young fool had not told her! McClintock had suspected as much. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly.
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