’ ‘Lord,’ Gerald murmured, awed more by the outspokenness of his hostess than by what she had said. She resolved to go into the City to Ramage and ask for his advice. She did not twitch. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. 6. She looked in the rear-view mirror. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint.
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