She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. ‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had. " "How so?" inquired Winifred. “I should like to speak to you for a few minutes,” he said to Anna, dropping his voice a little. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him.
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