‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. "He left Dollis Hill at ten o'clock on that night, and has not since returned. Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. “Come sit with me, beautiful.
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