‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. Wood cut him short by stating his intention of crossing the river as soon as possible in order to avoid the storm. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. He could have her in the car but she preferred a more private setting. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both. But come, sir.
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