There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. ‘Not if I heard him aright. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully.
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