He rolled onto his belly, freeing himself from her hands, pushing her away. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. " "Not utterly," rejoined the other. Get all ready for his reception. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. Spurlock grew cold. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. He HAD followed her! What had he followed her for? He must have followed her all the way from beyond Grosvenor Square. One was in the Indian Civil Service and one in the rapidly developing motor business.
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