Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea.
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