Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. She repeated phrases of Mrs. “Exactly. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. That place was closed by the police last month.
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