’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed. If, when he returned, he blew out the light, she would go to bed; but if the light burned on for any length of time, she would go silently to the study curtain to learn if his agony was still upon him. Manning loved her presented itself to her bloodlessly, stilled from any imaginative quiver or thrill of passion or disgust. His tie had demanded a struggle; he ought to have taken a clean one after his first failure. “Is it your maid?” he asked. She hoped that Shari would not be too brokenhearted about her disappearance.
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