CHAPTER XXII. She could feel her face turning beet red. In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. Dashing through the open door, he crossed the Old Bailey, plunged into a narrow court on the opposite side of the way, and was out of sight in a minute, baffling all pursuit. Then she came a few steps to meet him. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. He turned in at the club. The stairs were outside but they had been covered with a thin plastic roof.
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