“I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. . Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. Lucy did not want to have to kill the mother, as she hated more than anything to kill women, no matter what their sins. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his.
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