It must be some days before you can arrange for her to make an identification. “I was frightened then,” she declared. God send the fellow did turn out to be a spy! Beckoning Roding on, Gerald crept down the corridor towards the source of the swishing he had heard. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. F. And the less “anything” happened the better. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security.
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