Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. Her thoughts were busy with the possibilities of this break in her journey. People running, screaming, hiding. Ruth could not very well object, since an air of distinction would go with Taber. Wood's ear, whispered, "secret agents from France—you understand—friends to the cause—hem!" "I see,—persons of rank!" Mr.
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