“Don’t bother,” said Miss Blenkinsop. ”“Shall I keep something hot for you?” said Tory. “Bugger off and fuse your own typewriters with your lousy copy. No one’s asleep.
“The grown-up has gone to bed now,” said Janey. He scrumpled up the letter and put it in his hip pocket. “You can put this on your eye if you like, or I can grill it for you. ”Fen gave a shriek of laughter.
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