His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. I did not lay any traps for her. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn. Taking her limbs was the only thing I could do short of killing her. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. He perceived, however, that both the novels he read and the world he lived in discountenanced these assumptions.
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