Dim possibilities that she would not seem to look at even to herself gesticulated in the twilight background of her mind. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms.
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