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Man from the SouthShe looked exactly like the mother of one's best school friend welcoming one into the house to stay for the Christmas holidays. Billy took off his hat and stepped inside. 'Just hang it there,' she said, 'and let me help you with your coat.' There were no other hats or coats in the hall. There were no umbrellas, no walking-sticks - nothing. 'We have it all to ourselves,' she said, smiling at him over her shoulder as she led the way upstairs. 'You see, I don't very often have the pleasure of taking a visitor into my little nest.' The old girl is slightly mad, Billy told himself. But at nine pounds a night, who cares about that? 'I should've thought you'd be simply full of visitors wanting to stay,' he said politely. 'Oh, I am, my dear, I am, of course I am. But the trouble is that I am just a tiny bit careful about whom I choose - if you see what I mean.' 'Ah, yes.' 'But I'm always ready. Everything is always ready day and night in this house just in case an acceptable young gentleman comes along. And it is such a pleasure, my dear, when now and again I open the door and I see someone standing there who is just exactly right.' She was halfway up the stairs, and she paused, turned her head and smiled down at him. 'Like you,' she added, and her blue eyes travelled slowly all the way down the length of Billy's body, to his feet, and then up again ...» | Код для вставки книги в блог HTML
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