She turned back into the hall. ‘I can take care of myself, bête. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved. He was apt to play so many games, she was afraid she might have misunderstood. Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. It was cheating, pitiful cheating. He bent over to Anna at once.
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