Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. Utter silence answered him. Luck. He died in the war. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. A vast indifference settled down upon him. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. ’ Gerald sighed.
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