“Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands.
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