Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. “Fine. Their faces had bite marks that were hers. In all other respects they differed as materially. McClintock liked it. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard.
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