"Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. "I did all for the best, as I'll explain. . . " She pursed her lips and uttered a whistle, piercingly shrill and high; and instantly she became the object of intense astonishment on the part of the other diners. It is what I have wanted, what I have meant all along.
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