And Pottiswick, of course. She felt sickeningly empty. She told the porter to take it to the booking-office, and it was only after a disconcerting moment or so that she found she ought to have directed him to go to the cloak-room. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. Then he sensed the trap. Poor Ben was not so fortunate.
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