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It really was a War Loan receipt, and the name and address on it were: "Miss Hazeline Snow, The Bindles, Pymley, Gloucestershire." Lady Arabel smiled in a relieved way. She had not long been a social worker, and had not yet acquired a taste for making fools of the undeserving. "So this is your name and address," she said. "No," said the Stranger simply.
That the children without the nurse would be all right, but that my being there made the whole thing highly inexpedient, and infra dig." "Meg!... you didn't!" "I did, indeed. There was no use mincing matters." "And what did he say?" "He said, 'Oh, that's all bindles' whatever that may mean." "You mustn't go to the Gardens alone any more.
"This is your name and address," said Lady Arabel more loudly. "No," said the Stranger. "I made it up. Don't you think 'The Bindles, Pymley, is too darling?" "Quite drunk," repeated Miss Ford. She had attended eight committee meetings that week. "S s s sh, Meta," hissed Lady Arabel. She leaned forward, not smiling, but pleasantly showing her teeth. "You gave a false name and address.
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