“Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. Before a year has expired, you will share the same fate. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. Wild of the circumstance. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace.
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