Montague Hill. ‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. " The manager made a negative sign. It was an impulse. "Thank Heaven!" she gasped. "Well, like or not, I'm greatly pleased with it, and must beg it from you as a memorial——" "Of what?" she interrupted, startled by his change of manner.
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