" CHAPTER XIII. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. ’ ‘Is she now? And what would you be wanting of her, may I ask?’ ‘Because she knows something that may make this fool understand that I am the mistress of—’ She broke off. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. She could not help but swoon a little. Day by day she followed the spiritual and physical contest between this man and woman. The fresh air, which blew in his face, greatly revived him.
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