He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. And so I'll tell you what I did —" And she burst into a laugh that froze Jack's blood in his veins. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. ” And she pressed her lips together in white resolution and nodded, and she was manifestly full of that same passion for conflict and selfsacrifice that has given the world martyrs since the beginning of things. Montague Hill do not interest me in the least.
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