” She replied dryly. “Your coffee’s too good to refuse. “I wonder if there are any good women really. You know you don’t mean it. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. She was making it up. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck.
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