” He held his breath as she reached over the stick shift and touched his face. It is a big house and there are many rooms in which to hide. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. “I don’t have time for this. ” She whispered. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper.
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