She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. Montague Hill. It was perfectly logical. "Who, then?" demanded Jack. I never forgive an injury.
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