A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. ” “Because your nerves were exposed, that was no excuse for my touching them. There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield.
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