She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. “I—I shall be all right directly.
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