She looked from Anna, who was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. He slackened his pace as he reached the flat. "All's bowman, my covey. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head.
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