She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. “John, of course I forgive you if it is what you need from me. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. I have only one question to ask you. Nobody who cared. Where were you married?” “At the English Embassy in Paris. ‘Come, I am concerned merely for your safety, you know. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable.
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