He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. I am suspected of having shot the man. What about your luggage?” “I could get a few of my things, at any rate,” she said. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. The door closed upon her, and he moved reluctantly away. She threw the bags of marijuana and a tiny bag of white powder he had in the sewer, unfortunately they were his only worldly possessions.
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