He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. “I wouldn’t have been without this trip for worlds. ” He was intrigued.
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