She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. On a sudden, a change came over her countenance, which, up to this moment, had worn a smiling and satisfied expression. “And you?” “Same thing. I have never loved you.
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