‘You can’t go to England. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. Later, there will be fever, after I've got his heart pumping. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram.
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