The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. Wood's. . Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. The only thing that was louder to her was the beating of his heart.
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