For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it. Afterwards we started for a motor ride to a place outside Paris for déjeuner, and I suppose the man’s nerve failed him. "Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack. He was shifting to reach his own weapon, which had fallen in between the pews at the back. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. Nothing was given away, and no one came so rich to the stall as to command all that it had to offer. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him.
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