She laughed a little contemptuously. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. “Unless you have an appointment, which you haven’t,” he said, “you’ll only waste your time here. They had changed identities absolutely.
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