“You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. He was in trouble and she could not help him; that was the ache in her heart. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him.
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