’ The sergeant’s air became positively avuncular. “A sex of blacklegging clients. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck. "Here!" shrieked Lady Trafford. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. ” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered her onto the flat surface of the picnic bench. ’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. " Mrs.
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