She walked back to the car. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Loving was better than that. Wood's ear, whispered, "secret agents from France—you understand—friends to the cause—hem!" "I see,—persons of rank!" Mr. ’ ‘It’s immaterial, in any event,’ Roding put in. . What you say is probably all true and necessary. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly.
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