‘How she pouted, and tried to make out that she had been imposed upon. He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. At a turn in the road, he perceived Winifred looking anxiously towards him, and when she discovered him, she waved her hand. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. ‘I may have been only a secretary, but times are changing. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments.
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