“Mr. Madame shrugged. In the present case it did not matter, as there was no one else within earshot. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. He described her privately to himself as a splendid girl. “That’s it,” she said.
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