’ ‘Not, I trust, Nicholas Charvill?’ ‘Hardly. He turned, expecting to see his wife. She looked stealthily at Anna. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. “I never dreamt!” she said. Saturday mornings at the Beck house were routine, coffee, newspaper, bagels, and Looney Toons in no particular order.
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