With each step his heartbeat increased exponentially. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. Only Leonardo, and then Jack, had shown her that she might be admired. Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. “A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!. I'll knock off at tea.
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