In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. . Huge trees obscured the view of it. “Someone must have found it and taken good care of it. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. She caught at the idea.
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