‘What in God’s name is going on?’ Glancing swiftly towards the doorway, Gerald saw his friend’s disbelieving face and burst out, speaking over the top of Melusine as she made another grab for the little square of linen. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. Wood was scarcely seated before Mr. I leaned over and looked at him—he was quite still. “You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that.
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