As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. “I’m d——d if I understand this,” he said thoughtfully. Now tell them why. “Dear John,” she whispered. Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. Part of her felt like laughing insanely at how badly she had been duped. You look like a movie star. He dropped the key on the counterpane.
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