She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them. ‘What the devil for?’ ‘Messenger,’ Gerald explained. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. She was frowning, but it was evident that her initial fright had left her. “I’m sorry Mister McCloskey! I was out seeing my boyfriend!” He stared at her concernedly. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. If she was in a position to help him she would help him; only it happened to be the other way round.
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