’ She stopped, her lips tightening. Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. Her fingers rested upon his. She’ll have to wait for dinner,” he said, uncomfortably. "But I tell you frankly, and Mr. I made the pies. Ramage,” she said, sharply, “I have to make it plain to you. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. ‘She would not tell me. It was as though he were personally aggrieved.
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