“How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. He thought it best to let the matter drop. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. He was heartily thankful for it. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. A faint buzz above the ceiling witnessed that petrography, too, was active. I thought Bess would have cried her pretty eyes out when she heard you was nabbed. " CHAPTER XV. He's settling an account in the house. ’ ‘It is so in a convent, you see,’ she explained airily. Probably he will come around to-morrow and begin all over again. ’ ‘Nonsense, it’ll give Pottiswick something genuine to complain about,’ said Gerald cheerfully, moving to the edge of the trees.
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