Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. “I can get you,” Mr. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. It is repulsive. I was a novelty.
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