“You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. “Hainault was Celeste’s friend, and Celeste was Annabel’s enemy,” Courtlaw said. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. I tell you this child would have been strangled.
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