Crowley nodded gloomily. "Let me tempt you to some lunch," he hissed.
 They went to the Ritz again, where a table was mysteriously vacant. And perhaps the recent exertions had had some fallout in the nature of reality because, while they were eating, for the first time ever, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
 No one heard it over the noise of the traffic, but it was there, right enough.

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