‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. ” She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again.
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