" "You need not," replied Jack, in a tone of the deepest compunction. He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. The curtains which she had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on. It had showed up at an auction at Sotheby’s after someone had sold it. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. I'm not interested in him. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again.
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