Now he thought she was so foolish that she knew only one stroke. Spurling had retired for the night. ’ ‘What?’ gasped Gerald, shocked. ’ She jumped up, and moved impatiently to the door. . ’ A little sigh escaped her. ’ ‘There is no need for this,’ he ventured mildly, and lifted his finger to show his own pistol was not cocked. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them. ‘What do you mean to do with her?’ ‘Just keep her talking, that’s all,’ Gerald said quickly. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. There was a huge desk of heavily carved ebony at one end, and at the centre, a couple of straight-backed chairs stood before a great fireplace at the outer wall, flanked by two bookshelves with casement windows above. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers.
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