The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. “I suppose most people’s letters are queer. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. “I did not,” Anna answered.
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