“I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. She saw nothing of their love-making, and came home from her boarding-school in a state of decently suppressed curiosity for Alice’s wedding.
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