But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. " "Stand off, Sir!" exclaimed Trenchard, starting suddenly backwards. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. It’s not you—not a bit.
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