CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. Very glad. She mewed weakly, “Sebastian? What have you done? Where is Gianfrancesco? Did you kill him?” He crossed his arms. She leaves town to-morrow. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. Threw it out.
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