Chapter Two ‘Our French friends are beginning to form quite a little coterie,’ remarked Gerald, covertly studying the group gathered in an alcove at the other side of Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom. Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what. She would be extraordinarily interesting as a metaphysical study. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists. "On my return, I found the window open, and the room vacant. "I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. She listened, her suspicions confirmed.
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