What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. ‘You don’t mean to say she’s here?’ ‘Was,’ Gerald corrected. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. It was in this state that Mark McCloskey caught her. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. The man could put a bullet through her before she could hope to reach any one of them.
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