Thunder rumbled behind the manicured hills. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. They fell into step again. It was the first—and the last! At this juncture, the handle of the door was tried, and the voice of Mr. A sudden knock at the door startled her. “I was sick of the make-believe. “Why?” he asked, suavely. Section 1.
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