"And so, you really suspected me?" murmured Mrs. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. She had never let off a pistol in her life. To my loving parents and brothers, and my Aunts, Gail and Barb. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required.
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