The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. I am very, very sorry, but you must listen to me. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. ‘But a week and some days,’ answered Valade. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his.
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