“We can be alone?” She inquired. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. Although she did not understand why he persisted in this pursuit of her affairs. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. Here they would be having lunch. .
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