Her little white hand stole across the table. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed. Least of all myself. I loitered in the shop as you chatted with the butcher’s girl. They pressed more insistently, forcing her lips open. ’ She eyed him. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. At Anna’s words she seemed suddenly to stiffen. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. .
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